Impossible
by ICanStopAnytime
Summary: When a stranger asks to meet Julie in a coffee shop, his revelation could tear apart the Taylor family. Part I focuses on Matt and Julie as well as Eric and Tami. Part II continues their storylines but also features Tyra Collette as she struggles to find her place in the post-college world. Other FNL favorites, including Tim, Lyla, Buddy, and Billy, also appear.
1. Chapter 1

**Note:** This short story is excerpted and re-edited (with permission) from a story I co-authored with SurlyCoach. The old story is no longer in the archives. This story will focus on Matt and Julie, Julie and Coach Taylor (father/daughter stuff), and Tami and Eric.

**Chapter 1**

Matt's blue-green eyes were clouded with concern. "Genealogical research?" he asked.

"That's what he said," Julie answered. She put her chin on her hands which were folded on his bare chest.

Matt stared at the high ceiling of the loft. The moonlight hit some of his drawings and paintings on the opposite wall. The fan turned in rhythmic motion, letting a cool breeze fall on them. It was the height of July, and it was warm, but they couldn't afford air conditioning, and naturally they didn't really need it most of the year in Chicago, but it had hit 89 this week. They slept naked these days, and that was fine by Matt, for obvious reasons.

"And he wouldn't say how he thought he was related to you?" he asked.

"No, he said he wanted to talk to me in person. But he had all these details – he knew the name of my dad, where my parents lived two years before I was born - and he said he knew about some relatives I didn't know about, and that I might be interested."

"Sounds a little…suspect."

"You think he's some stalker dude?" she asked and kissed his chest.

"Could be."

"But I'm totally curious."

"Well I'm totally suspicious." He rolled onto his side and she rolled with him. He kissed her. "I'll let you meet him – "

"_Let_ me?" She pulled back. "_Let_ me?"

"Julie – "

"_Let_ me," she repeated. "Who do you think you are, anyway?"

"As of last month? Your husband."

The wedding had been small and had gone pretty smoothly, except the awkwardness of all that sniffling of the mother of the bride, and then the father of the bride getting slightly drunk at the reception and making out with his dewy-eyed wife a little too publicly on the dance floor. Julie had been mortified, but Matt had been kind of amused. He'd whispered _Come on – don't you want to still be that hot for each other after over two decades?_ Julie had just grimaced and muttered _Ewww, they're my parents_. _And this is OUR wedding. _Matt was just glad that Coach Taylor hadn't tried to give him one of his dag Coach speeches. His toast was short and actually pretty complimentary of Matt. Later, Coach Taylor pretended to have a coughing fit after the father-daughter dance so he could cover his face, but Matt could tell he was wiping tears away.

Julie threw herself on her back and grunted. "So this is what happens when you get married, huh? Suddenly you're all Mr. Possessive. Mr. Macho Protective – "

"Shut up," he said, rising on his elbow. He kissed her until she was at least smiling. "You want someone who _doesn't_ look out for you? Someone who _doesn't_ care if you meet creepy stalker guy who knows too much about your family?"

"No. But you _could_ consider your word choice next time."

"Noted." He snuck an arm around her. "You can meet him, but I'm coming with you."

"I _can_ meet him? I _can?_ Was that your idea of better word choice?"

"You told me last week you like that I've gotten more self-confident since selling those pieces." His tongue protruded between his lips, unintentionally, with his smile. "You _like_ my swagger."

She laughed. "Yeah, confident can be sexy," she said, "but, look, I wanted you to come with me anyway. That's why I was telling you about it. I was going to ask you to come with me. I'm not stupid you know."

"Then what's with the whining?"

"I _wanted_ to ask you to come. I didn't want you to _tell_ me I _had_ to _let_ you come." He smiled, the half smile, the one she loved, the curve, the dimple.

"A'ight," he said. "I'm sorry." He slid a knee in between her legs and spread them a little apart. "So ask."

"Will you come with me? You know, since it's my idea and all."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll come." He shifted on top of her. His lips were on hers, and - soon enough - her legs were wrapped around him and Mr. Potential Creepy Stalker Guy was long forgotten.

The next morning Matt took off work and accompanied Julie to the coffee shop, where she was approached by the guy who had contacted her about his genealogical research. He'd found her on Facebook and sent her a message. "Are you Julie Taylor?" he asked as he approached. Matt thought he looked to be about his own age, give or take a year or two, but he was dressed like he was a businessman with a twenty-year career behind him. He had on a dark suit and a dark red tie and very well shined shoes. He glanced at Matt.

Matt tried to sit up straighter in his seat and puff out his chest. He'd seen it done a thousand times by his fellow football players in high school, but it had never felt right to him. He felt like an idiot, but he had to declare his presence, right? Make his stature known. Not that his stature was any broader than this guy's, who was pretty muscular, and about two inches taller than Matt. The guy had medium brown hair that slightly curled in the back just above the neck, where it grew a good two inches longer than Matt's. It was thick hair too, and a little unruly. His eyes were a nice shade of brown, not that Matt noticed dude's eyes, he certainly didn't, he couldn't tell you what color Landry's eyes were if you asked him, it was just that this guy's eyes were almost the same shade as Julie's, and Matt had spent a lot of time looking deeply into that color, so he happened to notice.

"I'm Nathan," the guy said. "Nate." He sounded a little nervous. He glanced at Matt again, who kept the same rigid pose. Then he looked back at Julie. "You _are_ Julie Taylor?"

"Yes," Julie said. It was almost a whisper. She was clearly nervous too.

"Julie Saracen," Matt said, his eyes holding Nate's closely.

"I _was_ Julie Taylor," she clarified, "before I got married. This is my husband Matt."

Nate extended his hand, and Matt shook it cautiously. Nate held a hand toward the chair. "May I?"

If Matt wasn't suspicious before, he was now. Who in his generation said, "May I?" before sitting in a chair? May I? May I? What the hell was that?

When Julie nodded Nate sat down.

"So where's your genealogical research?" Matt asked. The guy didn't have anything with him. No folder. Not even a briefcase, despite the suit.

Nate rested his fingertips on the table. "I didn't really do genealogical research per say."

Matt tensed. _Liar._ He knew it.

"It's just that my mother died recently –"

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Julie said. Instinctive sympathy, Matt thought. He himself remained silent and suspicious.

"Thanks," Nate said. "Cancer. Anyway, before she died, she decided to tell me some things. Like where I came from."

A puff of air escaped Matt's nostrils. "Wow. I got the birds and the bees conversation when I was nine."

"Ha ha ha." Nate flashed a row of even, white teeth. His laugh reminded Matt of the way Coach Taylor laughed when he was just a little ticked off. "I mean," Nate said, "my mother was a single mom my whole life, and she told me my father died, but…she came clean before she died. She told me that my dad's actually still alive and what his name was and where they met and what she thought happened to him, and I did some research, and I couldn't find any contact information for him, but I found you," he looked at Julie "and hoped you'd give me his number. I didn't want to tell you all this in a Facebook message. It seemed…too much. So I asked you to meet me here."

What he said next had Julie shaking her head and saying, "No, it can't be. It can't be. You've made a mistake. It must have been another Eric Taylor. Taylor's a common name. So's Eric. It must be some other Eric Taylor."

"I don't think so. I'm pretty sure you're my younger half sister," Nate told her.

She just kept shaking her head. "No, see, my dad would have already been married when you say he got your mom pregnant…so, it's not possible."

"Well," Nate said. "It's _possible_. My mom wasn't on birth control. She _told_ him she was. I don't blame your – our – dad for that. I mean, she lied about it. And it was a brief fling. And she didn't tell him about me, so I can't really blame him for not knowing I existed either."

"No. My dad can't possibly be your dad."

"Well, he _can_ be."

"I _just_ told you," Julie said, her hands gripping the sides of the table tensely, "I _just_ told you - he was _already_ married to my mom at that time. So you must have the wrong Eric Taylor."

When Nate began to spell out to her how it was still possible, she shouted, "No!"

A dozen faces turned and looked at their table. Matt reached out and grabbed Julie's hand and told Nate to go. "_Now._"

Nate slid a business card across the table to Julie. From a glance, Matt saw that it had only his contact information and the word _Investments_. "Sorry I upset you," Nate said. "I'd like to meet him. Think about giving me his number. Please call me later." Nate stood and left the café.

Matt led a numb Julie back to the loft, and it wasn't until the front door was closed that she spoke again. "Lying piece of shit! What do you think he really wanted?"

Matt put a hand on both of her shoulders. "Julie, maybe he's telling the truth. He looks a lot like your dad."

"- NO! My dad would have already been married when that guy's mom got pregnant. So it isn't possible."

"It's possible…" Matt swallowed. He had to say this to her, didn't he? She wasn't going to hear it if it didn't come from him. "It's possible if he had an affair."

"Well that's not possible," she spat, and jerked away from him and sat at a stool by the kitchen bar. She quivered. Tears were in her eyes. "It's just not possible."

Matt came close and put a hand gently on her back and rubbed lightly. "He looked a lot like your dad, Julie. A _lot_._"_

"No…no…no…" She wasn't yelling it anymore, she was sobbing it. "It can't be. He couldn't have had an affair. He _couldn't_ have. If _he_ could…_anyone _could…_ you_ could…"

"I won't."

"No." It was a whisper this time. Her lip was sucked under her teeth. "No. Not my dad. No." Matt drew her into his arms and held her close. After a while, he carried her to bed, and they curled up on top of the still rumpled sheets, where he held her until she had cried herself to sleep.

Matt didn't know how long Julie would nap. They hadn't slept much last night and the emotion had just wiped her out. When she was snoring slightly, in that cute, soft, consistent way of hers, he slid his arms away, went out on the balcony, and pulled out his cell phone.

He'd talked to his father-in-law on the phone exactly zero times since the wedding. He'd spoken to Coach Taylor only once before it. They were neither of them phone talkers, and conversation could be awkward enough between them in person.

Matt, though he was a married now and a man with a decent job and his own place, still couldn't help but be extremely conscious, every time he was around Coach Taylor, that he was sleeping with the coach's daughter, and the coach knew it and didn't like it. Not that Coach Taylor was rude or harsh or anything like that – he hadn't been since his initial knee- jerk reaction to the engagement - and Matt wondered how much of that explosion had been due to stress, because Coach Taylor had seemed a lot more relaxed since they'd settled in Philadelphia. But even though his father-in-law was polite and good natured toward him most of the time these days, it was just weird, somehow. Matt never felt fully comfortable with him, never had since he'd first taken Julie's virginity.

Coach Taylor should be home. It was summer. Training didn't start for another week or two. Matt looked at his contacts and felt his chest tighten with something that wasn't at all nervousness. It was anger. It was fast becoming rage. He couldn't believe it either. Not Coach. Not the man so many players had looked up to over the years. Not the man whose approval – even if he pretended not to – Matt longed for. Not the man who had kept that sign up in the locker room – that sign that said, "Character is who you are when no one's watching."

Matt had to know. He dialed. The phone rang so loud. Louder than the traffic in the Chicago street below. Louder even than the heart that was hammering in his chest.

"Hey, Matt," came Coach Taylor's voice. "You want to talk to Mrs. Taylor?"

Modern technology. Caller ID. No chance to hang up now. Of course Coach assumed Matt didn't want to talk to him. When had he ever called Coach just to call Coach? Of course, it wasn't as if he called his mother-in-law either.

"No," Matt managed. "You."

"Uh…a'ight. What can I do you for?"

Matt dug his hand in his jean pocket. Just to…dig somewhere.

"Matt?"

"Yeah. I need to ask you something."

"Shoot."

Matt took the hand out and ran it over his tight cut hair. Just to…run it somewhere. He took a deep breath and willed himself to ask the question.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"Matt?" Coach Taylor asked again.

"A while ago," Matt managed finally, "like within the first year you were married…did you cheat on Mrs. Taylor?"

Silence. Matt closed his eyes. His father-in-law's voice was hard, tight, and – what? - angry? "Why are you asking me this?"

"Did you?"

"Matt, why are you asking me this?"

"Just answer the question!" Matt couldn't believe he'd shouted it so loud, but there it was. Cars honked in the street below and he felt a little self-conscious, even though no one passing on the street could hear him and the sliding glass door was closed.

"I'll answer the question," Coach Taylor said deliberately, "when you tell me why you're asking it."

"Someone contacted Julie. Someone who had reason to believe you might have had an affair at about that time."

"Who told her that?"

"So I take it the answer's yes," Matt said. "You had an affair."

Silence.

"Coach? You did, didn't you?"

"How's Julie?"

"Not well," Matt answered. "She cried herself to sleep a minute ago."

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the phone, like a hiss.

The usual stutter Matt had when talking to Coach Taylor vanished. "I think the question you should really be worried about, is how Mrs. Taylor is going to take it."

"Mrs. Taylor already knows." Coach Taylor fell abruptly silent, like maybe he'd just realized he'd made an admission he hadn't meant to make. "Listen, that was a long, long time ago. This isn't your business."

"My wife is curled in a ball on a bed with sheets that are soaking wet with her tears. So it damn well is my business now!" Matt had asserted himself with Coach Taylor once or twice over the years, but he'd never spoken to him like this. He was too mad to be worried about the man's reaction.

From the other end of the line came that particular sigh Matt had heard Coach Taylor make sometimes in his office, when he was just plain overwhelmed with all the crap that came along with football that had nothing to do with football.

"I…listen. We hit a rough spot our first year. We were fighting all the time. We married so young, and no one taught us anything about marriage. Least of all our parents. They didn't even give us a good example. And we just didn't know how to handle anything, so she left me. Moved in with her sister. Said she made a mistake marrying me. I thought she was going to divorce me. I was beside myself. She was gone, and there was this woman at work who made me feel like I was still worth something even if my wife didn't think so anymore. I took comfort in the wrong place. "

"How long did you _take comfort_ in the wrong place?" Matt could barely get the question out from between his clenched teeth.

"Not long. I was young and weak and angry and scared and stupid. Tami…Mrs. Taylor…called and said she was coming home, so I ended it right away. I told her the truth. Listen, we worked this out. That was a _long_ time ago. I've been faithful _ever_ since. More than twenty years. Do you think Julie's going to be okay?"

"I don't know. Do you even know you have a son?"

"What?"

"I didn't think so. Nate. His name's Nate."

Silence. The silence was so long, Matt checked his phone to make sure the battery hadn't gone dead. "Coach?"

"We worked through all this," Coach Taylor muttered. "Tami and I, we…it was so long ago…and I love her so much. I love her so much… " What Matt heard on the other end wasn't a sigh. It was more like the shortness of breath that comes from anxiety. "A son? Are you sure?"

"His mother told him your name, when she'd met you, where…he looks like you. A lot."

"I don't see how…she said she was –"

"Well, she wasn't," Matt said. "Nate said she lied about being on birth control."

"We never spoke again after I broke it off. She never told me…Are you sure?"

"Timing's right," Matt said. "He looks like you. He knew your name, where you lived before Julie was born. He asked for your number. We didn't' give it to him, but we have his."

The glass door opened. Julie stood there, arms across her chest. A flash of anger surged through Matt again. How could Coach Taylor do this to his own daughter? Matt blamed him for the dried up tears on her cheeks, the taut muscles in her face.

"Who are you talking to?" she asked.

"No one," Matt said, and clicked off the phone and took her into his arms.

They went back and cuddled in bed. Julie didn't say anything for a long time. She just clung to him, until finally, softly – "He did look a lot like my dad. In the face, you know. And his…laugh. His facial expressions. He doesn't have my dad's eyes but…"

"…They're yours."

"Yeah," she admitted.

Matt held her a little closer.

"How could he?" she asked.

Matt couldn't hold her closer so he kissed her head instead.

"Do you think they'll get divorced, my parents, when my mom finds out?"

"Maybe she already knows. It would have been a long time ago."

"Then why would she have seemed so happy all these years? Not just happy. In love. I just don't understand, Matt. If _he_ could do that…if _my_ dad could do that…"

Matt sat up and pulled her onto his lap and cradled her against his chest. "I will _never_ cheat on you. You understand that? Never. I won't ever hurt you like that." He kissed her, long and tenderly. "Do you believe me?"

"I believe you, I just…I never believed it was possible my dad could…"

"I know." He hadn't believed it was possible either. Matt didn't want to tell her about his conversation with Coach, but he thought he should. Maybe it would at least reassure her to know her mom knew and that they'd already worked it out over two decades ago.

It didn't reassure her.

"That just doesn't seem like my mom, you know," she said. "Running out on him and moving in with Aunt Shelley just because they were fighting. Threatening divorce without staying and trying to talk it through. Storming off like that. She's more reasonable than that."

"People change." Matt knew it was possible to run out even on someone you loved. Possible to run out and only realize later how childish, how unkind you'd been.

"And then…just taking him back? Why would she just take him back and then get pregnant with me so soon after? Nate can't be more than two years older than me." Julie's face contorted. It was clear she was trying to stop the returning tears, but she couldn't. She just couldn't, and, at the moment, Matt hated Coach Taylor – hated him.

**/FNL/**

Julie met again with Nate, this time at a deli around dinner time, and she asked Matt not to come with her. Given the details of Nate's story, the timing, her dad's admission to Matt, and Nate's appearance…it didn't seem likely the young man was lying.

Julie didn't want to like Nate. She wanted to hate him. She wanted him to somehow be the innocent scapegoat for all this turmoil that was gnawing her gut to pieces. He dressed the sheer alpha male, all business from head to toe, and he'd pulled up to the deli in a bright red Ferrari, so she thought it shouldn't be too hard to despise him. But, once they got talking, he was surprisingly unassuming. He seemed to have the gentleness of someone like Matt, the intelligence of a Landry, and the wry sense of humor of a Tyra.

Nate, she learned, had never gone to college. His mom used to leave the radio on in the house all the time when he was a kid, tuned to talk radio, and he would listen to this investment show droning on in the background. When he was 12, he started devouring books on finance. When he was 14, he began investing his allowance and lawn mowing money. When he was 15, he took over handling his mother's investments. When he was 16, he took over his aunts' and uncles' and cousins'. By the time he was 18, he had his own financial consulting business.

Nate knew a little about their dad. He'd done research and read the sports articles that had featured Coach Taylor. Nate said his mom and their dad had worked together at the same junior high school –back before Coach Taylor had even been Coach Taylor – when he'd just been Mr. Taylor, a P.E. teacher, not even an assistant coach yet. Nate's mom had been having boyfriend problems at the time, and she somehow got Julie's visibly distraught father talking one day in an empty teacher's lounge. Mr. Taylor had confessed his marriage struggles, told her that his wife had left him, and the two teachers had ended up having a very brief affair before Julie's dad said his wife was coming home and he wanted to work things out with her.

"You said she told my dad," Julie couldn't bring herself to say _our_ dad, "that she was on the pill when she wasn't. Why would she do that?"

"She wanted to get pregnant and tell her boyfriend it was his so that he'd stay with her. He was getting ready to leave her. She'd gone off the pill a couple months before, but her boyfriend wasn't getting her pregnant, so she thought maybe your dad would, and then her boyfriend would stay."

It shouldn't shock Julie that some woman might do that, but it kind of did. Her dad still should have used a condom, anyway, just in case she had an STD or something. Well, he _shouldn't_ have been in bed with her at all, of course. Julie was having trouble wrapping her mind around this image of a much different man than the one she'd grown up knowing.

"Don't judge my mom by that," Nate said. "I mean, it shocked me when she told me all this, because she wasn't that person. She was never that person in my eyes. She was a good mom. She worked hard. She raised me alone. That boyfriend left her, after I was born. Your dad had moved to another town by then, and my mom decided not to tell him. That was her choice. I think she wanted to give him a chance to fix his marriage. She wanted to start over herself. So don't judge her."

Julie looked into his troubled eyes. Nate must have been going through something like the emotional turmoil she'd been experiencing, the wild disconnect, the "cognitive dissonance" – that was the term she'd learned in her Psych 101 elective her second semester of college. She wasn't exactly alone in this experience.

Nate was holding the napkin on which Julie had written down Coach Taylor's cell phone number. "Does she know?" he asked. "Your mom? About the affair?"

Julie hadn't talked to either of her parents since she'd found out yesterday, but – assuming her dad wasn't lying to Matt – "Yeah. She knows. And my husband told my dad about you, so I guess he'll be expecting your call."

Nate put the napkin down. "Maybe I shouldn't. I don't want to stir things up. You say they've been married twenty-three years?"

Julie nodded.

"Clearly they got past it, so I don't want to tear off any scabs. I'd really like to meet him though."

"I think the scab's going to be torn off whether you meet him or not." Matt had told Julie's dad, after all. Sooner or later, her dad would have to tell her mom he had a son, if only because he would be acting weird and Julie's mom would dig it out of him.

She and Nate talked a little more – about their own lives – about music and books – about anything other than the fact that their parents weren't always the people they thought they were. Julie told Nate she was finishing up college - taking two classes while working thirty hours a week as a proofreader. They didn't agree to meet again, but Julie gave him her e-mail and told him to keep in touch.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 **

When Julie returned to the loft, Matt was still at work, and she'd just settled onto the love seat and was about to open a textbook when her cell phone rang. Her hello was greeted by "Your father asked me to call you." Julie looked at the chest they used as a coffee table and didn't say anything. _The coward._ Asking her mom to talk to her? Not daring to call himself? "Did Matt tell you everything your dad told him?"

"Yeah," Julie answered. "But it's not your version."

Her mom told her what Matt had already told her, but with more details. Her mother was calm the entire time she was talking, but it was a forced calm – she sounded strained to Julie, like someone who had just hit herself hard on a table and was biting down on her tongue and trying not to curse. She told Julie she'd incurred some serious debts before they got married, that she'd kept them secret from Julie's father, and that he'd been angry when he found out. He'd taken a second job on the weekends so they could start paying them off, and he'd said some hurtful things to her about her being irresponsible, and she'd responded with plenty of angry words of her own. Eventually, Julie's mom had stormed out with a suitcase and a one-way ticket to Dallas, where Shelley was, fresh out of high school, living with two roommates. "I told him I couldn't promise him I was coming back. I acted like a child," she told Julie. "We both acted like children. I don't excuse what he did. _He_ doesn't excuse what he did. But we both had a part in it."

"But how…" If Matt cheated at this point, whatever the reason, Julie honestly couldn't see herself getting back together with him. "How did you work it out?"

"We went to counseling. We learned a lot. It was what made me want to be a counselor one day myself. Up until then, I'd only thought about administration. So I went and-"

Was her mom trying to change the subject? Seriously? Julie wasn't having it. "-So you just went to counseling and suddenly you were fine? Your marriage was okay even though he _cheated_ on you?"

"No. There was more work. Your dad had to check in with me several times a day for a while after that, to reassure me. He quit his job at the school so he wouldn't run into her. He got another job in another town. We moved. I cried a lot. We fought some more. But, I loved him, and he loved me, and we pulled through."

"Why did you decide to get pregnant with me so soon after the affair? Did you think it would help keep you together?" She was thinking of the stupid thing Nate's mom had done - trying to get pregnant to keep her boyfriend –- and wondering if her own mom could possibly have been so foolish.

"It's never a good idea to get pregnant to try to save a marriage, Jules. I don't want you to think that, if you and Matt ever fight -– "

"- I _don't_ think that. That's why I'm wondering why you did it."

"We never used anything because we thought I was infertile. I don't want to go into the medical details with you, Jules, but I had reason to believe I was infertile before we were even married. So you were a surprise. We started using birth control after you were born, of course, when we realized it _could_ happen. And then four years after you were born we stopped using it again because we wanted a second child, but I couldn't get pregnant. And then one day years later Gracie came along. You two are both our miracle babies."

"So…in the beginning…" Julie dreaded the question, but she had to ask it: "did you end up staying married because of _me_?"

"We stayed married for a lot of reasons. You were one of them, yes. But there were others. Including the fact that we loved each other." Julie was quiet. "Julie, you know, your father's a good man." When Julie didn't reply, her mom continued, "He is. I know your father inside and out by now. He knows me the same way. When you get to be my age…when you see…" She sighed. "He really _is_ a good man, Julie. It's very painful what happened, but your father has worked very hard on our marriage over the years. I've seen a lot, and I know how much more effort your father puts into our relationship than most men do. He could have walked away that first year. It would have been easier. I could have walked away. Most people, they hit the biggest bumps several years in. We just hit them early. And it's even easier to walk away in the beginning. But we didn't. Instead, we realized we had to learn the things no one taught us. Marriage isn't easy. No one ever _really_ told us that. That's why it's been so important for us to talk to you about communication, and compromise, and honesty - "

"- But not about the truth about Dad cheating?"

"We thought we could teach you some of what we learned without going there. We wanted that past to stay behind us. And unless you've been through it yourself, you can't really understand it anyway. But we taught you what we could." She was quiet again for a while, until she murmured, "We married so young."

Her mother didn't say it, not in words, but Julie heard, "I wish you'd waited. I wish you and Matt had waited…"

"I have to go," Julie muttered.

"Do you want to talk to your dad?"

"No."

"Julie – "

"I can't, mom. I just can't."

"Julie, he's so ashamed. He's so ashamed."

"Well he should be," she said and hung up the phone.

Julie covered her hands with her face, sighed, and then let out a strangled cry of frustration as she threw her head back against the love seat. She got up and started making dinner, turning on the gas burner with a flick flick. She thought of her father asking her, "Did you know he was married?" after her affair with her T.A. He'd sounded so disappointed when he'd asked it too. So disappointed. Did you know he was married, he'd asked. Did you know? _Hypocrite!_

She plucked a pot from the drying rack. Their one pot. There wasn't room for a bunch. She began to fill it with water, and then she slammed the pot on the stove. The water swayed violently and splashed with a sizzle on the gas flames beneath the burner.

**/FNL/**

Over a month ago, Matt and Julie had planned a visit to Philadelphia in late July, and despite the awkwardness of the situation, they went ahead with it. Nate, who lived in Ohio, had called his father. They'd talked on the phone, and then Nate had met Coach Taylor at a midpoint in West Virginia, where they'd had lunch and talked for a couple of hours.

Julie knew about all this from Nate, not from her father, whom she hadn't spoken to since she'd found out about the affair. Julie's dad had only tried calling her once. He'd left a single message on her voice mail: "Julie, I'm…I'm sorry I disappointed you." That was it. She hadn't called back.

When the family came to pick them up at the airport, Julie didn't hug her dad, and he didn't try to hug her. He nodded at Matt and Matt nodded back. Julie threw her arms around her mom though, hugged her tighter than usual, and then squatted for Gracie's hugs and kisses. They all made small talk on the drive to the house. Jobs. Weather. Traffic. You could cut the tension with a knife. Gracie prattled on at the dinner table, which brought some relief. Somehow or other, they made it through the evening.

At Gracie's bed time, Julie went into her little sister's room to read to her just as her father was preparing to leave it. Their dad was sitting on Gracie's bed and leaning down to give her one last hug and kiss. Julie leaned against the door frame, her eyes fixed on the floor. She heard the sound of her father's lips against her sister's forehead and heard him stand.

She'd watched her father with Gracie before, in a scene very much like this. At the time, she was thinking, _Gracie is the daughter who hasn't yet disappointed him_. But at this moment, she was thinking, _Gracie is the daughter who doesn't yet know enough to be disappointed __**in**__ him._

"Nite, daddy," Gracie said as he neared the open frame.

"Nite, baby girl. I love you." He glanced at Julie. His mouth opened, but he didn't say anything. He hung his head and scurried out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Matt was sitting alone in a lawn chair on the back porch of the Taylors' house. His legs were stretched out, and he was just watching the dog chasing its tail in the neighbor's yard when he was startled by a hand extending a beer in front of him. "Want one?" Coach Taylor asked.

Matt looked at the beer. He was almost twenty-one, but not quite. Coach Taylor had certainly never offered him one before. Eyebrows raised, Matt took it. The coach settled in the chair next to him. They drank in silence, until Coach Taylor ventured some small talk about football, the next season, the weather…nothing of substance. When Matt didn't respond, his father-in-law fell silent.

"Character," Matt said into the silence. "Character is who you are when you think no one is watching."

Coach Taylor looked like he was chewing tobacco. He wasn't of course, but his face had that look about it. Maybe he was chewing the inside of his cheek.

"That's what your little sign says, in the locker room, right?" Matt asked. His voice grew more sarcastic - "Did you bring that one with you here to Phili?"

"You think I'm a hypocrite," Coach Taylor said, "because I don't want the young men I coach to fail in any of the ways I did." He put the neck of his bottle to his mouth. He looked like the brew was bitter when he swallowed. "That's not hypocrisy, son. That's maturity."

Matt could feel it, the anger, brewing, rising. "I'd never cheat on Julie. Never."

"Good. That's what a father-in-law wants to hear." Coach Taylor put his fingers on the bridge of his nose and leaned forward in his chair. His eyes were closed. He looked like he might be praying, but Matt had never seen him pray, except before football games, and before dinner. For ball, and for food, for the things he loved, but not for the things he feared.

Eventually, Coach put his hand down, let it dangle over the chair, and opened his eyes. He didn't look at Matt. "I hope," he said, "you never do anything you ever have to be ashamed of."

Except Matt already had, hadn't he? He'd been ashamed when Coach Taylor had come to haul his drunk ass form the hospital. He'd been ashamed when he'd fled Julie to find himself and left her without a word. None of that was the same as cheating, but it had all required the same kind of vulnerability and confusion and anger that had once driven his father-in-law to cheat. When Coach Taylor said Matt had nothing to be ashamed of, had he forgotten those things? Did his father-in-law really hold none of that against him?

The door opened. Mrs. Taylor came out and slid a hand on her husband's shoulder. Coach Taylor placed his hand over hers and closed his eyes. He looked like he was praying again, but this one looked like a grace, Matt thought. A thank you, God. Coach Taylor kissed his wife's fingers.

"Gracie's in bed," Mrs. Taylor told her husband. "Julie's alone in the living room at the moment."

Coach Taylor stood up and disappeared inside while Mrs. Taylor slid down in the now empty chair next to Matt. She asked him about his art. That was something his father-in-law never did. Matt didn't think Coach Taylor respected his chosen calling in life. Mrs. Taylor had been supportive, though - she'd even purchased a painting of his, one that he'd been proud of even though it was so little like the rest of his work. It had featured a torn-up football lying in the remote corner of an overgrown field, and, on the distant horizon, a sun just beginning to rise. Matt had painted it when he first came to Chicago. He'd been thinking about the past he'd left behind, about the future he was trying to grasp.

Matt had looked for that painting when he came in the house today, but he hadn't seen it on any wall. He supposed it could be in their bedroom - the only room he hadn't been in today - but it was probably still wrapped and stored somewhere in the garage, almost a year later, or leaned in a corner in the basement. Mrs. Taylor probably hadn't really liked it. She'd probably bought it because she was being nice, maybe trying to slip the struggling couple money in a way that wouldn't damage Matt's pride.

"How are y'all doing out there in Chicago?" she asked.

"Good," he said.

He noticed she looked tired, a little older than he'd remembered her looking. She was probably the most beautiful forty-something he knew, but there was a weariness about her eyes he hadn't noticed before.

"What are your plans for Thanksgiving and Christmas this year?" she asked.

"Dillon. My family for Thanksgiving. We were planning to do Christmas here. Just the 24th through the 26th. We can't get much time off." _Were_ planning, he'd said. He wasn't sure how Julie would feel when the time came around. She'd wanted to cancel this planned visit, but Matt had suggested her mother might really want – and need – to see her, and Julie had agreed.

"We'd love to have you then. Eric's excited about the possibility of having a white Christmas. Especially now that Gracie's a little older and can get into the sledding. He loves watching her do that. We never could do that in Texas."

How did she do it? Matt wondered. Remain so calm? And this was a woman who had once stormed off from her newlywed husband in a fight over money, gotten on a plane, flown away, refused to answer the phone. And now she'd just learned a mere week ago that her husband had a son by another woman, and here she was...talking about how he wanted to take their daughter sledding.

Matt's in-laws had an entire history, a life before his life, a marriage that was even older than he was. He'd always known that, of course, but it was just a fact. He hadn't really _thought_ about it before – that the Taylors' _marriage_, their _marriage_ itself, was older than he was. He'd been through so much as a teenager that it hadn't occurred to him, until this moment, just how very young his world still was.

**/FNL/**

Julie knew her father from his footsteps. She didn't look at him when he sat on the couch beside her. She didn't turn off the TV either, but she turned it down. She ran her fingertips over the buttons of the remote. It was like she could barely breathe. She swallowed, and then she spat it out - - "How could you?"

He didn't say anything.

"And then _you_ judge _me_? When I slept with Derek? You have the nerve to ask me if I knew he was married? Hypocrite."

He opened his mouth. Closed it. She was peeking at him now, just a little. His Adam's apple bobbed. He bit his bottom lip, let it loose, and finally spoke. "It's not hypocrisy, Julie. You and Matt just don't understand…" He took a deep breath. "It's not hypocrisy to not want your daughter to cause someone the kind of pain I caused…" He stopped. He swallowed. His hand was resting on his leg, just above his knee. "My father was a bad example for me," he said. "In more ways than I can count on two hands. I wanted to change that. I wanted to set a good example for you. I wanted to be better than my father. And I wanted you to be better than me." He turned all the way toward her now, and she looked at him. His eyes seemed moist. "I'm sorry I'm not the man you thought I was. But I'm also not the man I used to be."

"I'm going to go check on Matt," she said and rose and left him there.

Before she opened the sliding glass door, she steadied herself. She brushed away the two or three stray tears she didn't realize had fallen, took a deep breath, and ran a hand through her hair. When she went outside, her mom and Matt stopped talking. Eyes met eyes. Questions were asked, and not answered.

Julie's mom got up and went inside - to comfort her dad, no doubt. That's what Mom did. The supportive wife. She played the role well, didn't she? Julie had always thought of her mother as strong. Supportive, sure, but at the same time independent and willful. Dad was sort of the titular head of the family, but Mom led him fairly easily, and a lot of the time, he let himself be led. At least, that's how Julie had always seen it. Now, she didn't know what to think…

Later, when Julie and Matt came inside, her parents were on the couch. Her dad's head, weary, tired, was lying sideways on the back cushion and Mom's hand was on his cheek. They were looking a little sadly into one another's eyes. They pulled apart and turned to look at her.

Julie tugged Matt's hand. "I think we're going to bed," she said to her parents. "Goodnight."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

After they'd been laying in the darkness awhile, Matt eventually said, "Did you talk to your dad?"

"Not really. I can't believe my mom took him back so quickly. I always thought of her as so strong, you know?"

Matt wrapped Julie up in his arms. He didn't want to contradict her and possibly invalidate her feelings. He just didn't see how thinking this way about her mom was going to make her feel good either. "Do you think it's weak to forgive?" he asked. "You think that doesn't take strength? You think that's easy? Because it's not, Julie. "

"Maybe you're right. But then my dad -"

"- You know…" He slid his fingers into her hair and caressed the strands. "I know you're upset. And you've got every right to be. I've been upset too. But I've also been thinking..." Matt was disappointed with Coach, but there was also this part of him that had begun to feel badly for his father-in-law. "What must it be like to do something wrong, to be sorry, to be forgiven, to change, to work hard at being better…and then to have it all blow up again over twenty years later? When you thought it was so far behind you? I mean, think about it, Julie. How would you like it if over twenty years from now, people were still judging you for what you did with that T.A.?"

She pulled away. Her eyes seemed to flash in the darkness when she looked down at him. "You said you weren't bothered by that. It's not like you and I were together. I didn't cheat on you."

"No, you didn't." But it had still hurt, the thought of her with that guy. And then Matt had been disappointed in her too, even if he'd pretended not to be. "You didn't cheat on _me_. But _he_ was married, Julie. _He_ was married."

"They were kind of apart, though," she insisted. "I mean, yeah, _legally_ they were still married, but at the time they weren't really together and – "

"- Yeah. Just like your mom and dad, when he had his affair."

Julie's mouth closed tight. Her voice was a low whisper. "I thought at least you didn't judge me."

He put a hand on her cheek. "I don't. I'm just saying…_think_ how your dad must feel right now."

Julie and Matt talked awhile longer. He gave her a perspective that made her wonder if there was really only a one year's difference between them. It also made her remember why she'd felt confident in marrying him. Eventually they started kissing, and then they made love quietly - – not just because they were in her parents' house and they were always uncomfortable doing it in that setting – - but because right now Julie needed tenderness - - the slow, the quiet, the gentle, and Matt seemed to get that.

He fell asleep after, his cheek pressed against the pillow, his lips slightly open, but she'd just ended up lying on her back, looking at the light from the street like a spider web on the ceiling.

Julie had felt guilty and ashamed for her affair with the T.A., and her dad had made the feeling worse with his obvious disappointment. Most of her shame was about not meeting expectations – her dad's, her mom's, her own. She hadn't really let herself think too much about the other woman. She'd tried to think of Derek's wife as nothing but a screeching bitch. She'd tried not to think too much about how that woman had felt. But that woman was a wife. A wife. Like Julie's own mom – - a wife whose husband had gone and slept with someone else, leaving her in a world of pain.

Julie wondered if Derek had ever reconciled with his wife. If their marriage had survived. She doubted it. Derek wasn't her father. From what she'd learned from Nate and her mom, her father had cut off the affair instantly when her mom said she wanted to fix the marriage. He hadn't tried to draw the other woman back in, even after discovery, the way Derek had done with her. He'd gone to counseling. He'd done everything her mom had asked of him to help heal things. He'd worked hard. Those things weren't fixed easily. Honestly, Derek was probably good and divorced by now and seducing another student. That's probably why he was separated in the first place. God, she'd been a fool.

Julie wondered if her mom had done anything like hunting down and publicly slapping the other woman. Maybe she'd slapped her dad, when he'd told her. Who knows what she'd done. Julie knew so little about her parents. She saw one side of them, the side they chose to show her, but they had a whole life behind closed doors, too, and they'd had whole lives before she was born.

Her mom had been the one to show her compassion when she slept with Derek. Her mom, who had been injured in the same way that Julie had helped to injure Derek's wife. Her father had been the one to clench down his jaw, to disapprove sternly.

Did we really judge others the most for the flaws that were within us? What was that? A way of distancing ourselves from our own weaknesses? Or had her dad been disapproving of himself even as he'd been disapproving of her? Was that disappointment turned inward? Like he'd said tonight – he wanted her to be better than himself. Did he feel a double - failure – he'd failed himself, and then he'd had a daughter he couldn't teach not to fail in a similar way?

Julie let out a long and weary sigh. Being a grown-up was hard. When she still couldn't sleep thirty minutes later, she decided to get a glass of warm milk. As she passed through the living room to the kitchen, she saw a lump stirring on the couch. Her dad. He had a pillow and a blanket, so it wasn't as if he'd just fallen asleep watching TV there. He'd been _sent_ there.

Julie's emotions were often fickle. She'd perfected that outward face of not caring as a teenager, but - - inside - - she cared deeply, about a thousand things, and what she cared about could change from second to second. Right now, instead of thinking, "How could Mom just take him back?" Julie was feeling a terror clench her chest. She was thinking "What if she leaves him over this Nate thing? What if my parents divorce, after all these years?"

Her dad had by now sat up and switched on the lamp by the side of the couch. "Hey," he muttered, "What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep." Julie slid into the arm chair. "So…how long have you been on the couch?"

"Just tonight." He smiled weakly. "Because I was in the guest bedroom before you got here."

Was that meant to be a joke? She looked down at the carpet.

"Listen," he said, "We're going to be okay, me and your mom. She's not…angry at me right now. She's not…punishing me. She just needs a little space. I'm not here because we're fighting. I'm here so we won't end up fighting."

Julie looked at him skeptically.

"It's true," he said. "It's just hard for her. She hadn't _really_ thought about it in a long… and...she needs a little space is all. It's better this way. That's something we learned. If you try to gloss…without…time...fully feeling…it just …" He trailed off and sat back against the cushion. He rubbed his eyes. "We're going to be fine. I love your mother very much."

Julie pulled the hassock closer and sat back and stretched out her feet. "What did you think of Nate? I assume you think he's telling the truth."

"He has your grandma's eyes. Your eyes. He offered to take a blood test, but I don't see why he'd be lying. He's not asking me for anything. He just wanted to meet me. He seems pretty well off on his own." He rubbed his temples, as if he had a constant headache there. "What did you think of him?"

"My half brother?" she asked. "He seems all right. Hey, you always wanted a boy right?"

Her dad looked up sharply. "I wanted exactly what I was given. You and Gracie and your mom…you're the three most important things in the world to me. "

God he looked tired. When had he last shaved? Julie returned to the subject she could tell he didn't want to discuss. "So mom's really upset?" she asked. "Even though she doesn't act like it?"

"Listen," he said, "We've had a long, good marriage, me and your mom. We're going to keep having one. It's just…I gave her a wound once, and there are lifelong consequences to that. The scab gets thicker and thicker over time, but if you tear at it…" He sighed. "This news about Nate was sudden, it was shocking, and it woke up some old pain. But we're doing what we need to do. We know what we're doing."

Julie chewed on her bottom lip. "Are you going to try to have a relationship with Nate now?"

"I gave him my number. My e-mail. We'll meet again for coffee next time he's near Phili. He travels around a lot for his…I don't what the hell he does. I didn't understand. He does things with other people's money. He doesn't even have a college degree."

"Nice car though, huh?"

Her dad smiled. "Yeah."

"What did you talk about?" She smirked. "Besides football."

"Believe it or not, we didn't even talk football. He wanted a health history, a family history, that sort of thing. He wanted to know a bit about me, but…he was just curious, you know? I'm nothing to him. I was no part of his life. He had father figures growing up –uncles. I don't think he's looking for that."

"It's weird," she said. "That I have a brother."

Her father nodded. They were quiet for a long time. "Do you want to watch something?" he asked.

Julie came and sat beside him on top of the blanket that covered his lap and fell over the cushion next to him. She put her head on his shoulder and he closed his eyes and sighed. His arm went around her shoulder and he planted a light kiss on top of her head. "I love you, Monkey Noodle."

"I love you too, dad," she said. It wasn't easy to say. The anger and disappointment still lingered. It would probably linger for a long time to come. But she _did_ love him. That was _why_ she'd been so disappointed. She made herself say more: "I'm glad you and mom worked things out in the beginning. I hope you keep working them out. You guys have given me a pretty good example." She had always thought that, before this news about the affair, but Matt had made her begin to realize that this news hadn't changed that fact – that the way they'd worked through it was an example in itself. "And maybe, because you did, Matt and I will go through fewer struggles than you did. You guys are giving us tools. More than your parents gave you. "

"You're sending Julie home with tools?" Julie's mom was suddenly behind the couch. "Are you finally going to unpack those boxes in the garage?"

Julie's dad leaned back to look up at her. "Marriage tools. She was talking about marriage tools."

"Ah."

"Can't sleep?" he asked.

Julie's mom shook her head. Julie looked from her mother to her father. "Family movie night?" she asked.

"We have a Shakespeare movie on DVD," her mom said, going and grabbing it from a rack.

"Shakespeare?" Julie said. "I think dad's going to object."

Julie's mom slid it in the player and was now sitting down on the couch. Julie was sandwiched between her parents. "Your dad loves it. He's the one who bought it."

Julie snorted and glanced at him. "Is Phili broadening your horizons?"

"It's a war movie," he said. "The language is a little stilted, but I got used to it after a while."

Julie's dad stretched his arm out straight so it went across Julie and his hand was just resting on his wife's back, below her neck. Julie's mom turned and smiled at him. There was a little bit of sadness in that smile, something shared, and love. "I like family movie night," she said. He smiled back, the same way.

When the movie was half over, they were all drifting off. Julie woke up when her mom clicked the TV off and said, "We should all get to sleep."

Julie stood, said goodnight to them, and began walking to the guest bedroom. When she got to the door, she heard her mom say, "Eric, hon, aren't you coming to bed?"

Then her dad's hesitant, hopeful voice: "To…with you?"

"Yeah," said her mom. "This couch can't be comfortable."

Julie felt the relief flooding over her. She gently pushed open the guest bedroom door. They were going to be all right. Her parents loved each other, had managed to build a good marriage together, even if it had gotten off to a rocky start. They knew how to handle each other, when to give one another space, when to reach out. What had her mom said? They knew each other inside and out.

Julie slid in bed next to the slumbering Matt and cuddled close. She and Matt would have their problems, sure, but maybe they'd escape a lot of the pain and conflicts her parents had worked through over the years, because they'd been given a more solid start - more support. They didn't have to go it alone as a couple, the way her parents always had.

She kissed Matt awake. "Make love to me again," she said, and he did.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"I got to run into my office a sec," Coach Taylor said as he swung his pick-up into the parking lot of an old, brick building that looked like a prison. The lot was behind barbed wire. "Summer training starts soon. Just got to grab something." He and Matt had been out to the hardware store together to get some wood for a swing set Coach Taylor was building in the backyard for Gracie.

Coach Taylor pulled out his keys as they walked toward the building. Matt looked across the deserted lot to the Pemberton High School football field and thought it looked smaller than his _junior_ high school stadium in Texas. Football wasn't God in Pennsylvania. Even if he won, Coach Taylor still might not be particularly important here. "You…uh…like working here?" Matt asked.

"It's a'ight. Team's got a long way to go. Made some improvements last season. We'll get there." They were inside now, and Coach Taylor was flicking on the lights. "Mrs. Taylor loves Philadelphia. She's very happy with her job." He shoved his keys in his shorts pocket. "I like seeing her happy."

Coach Taylor went around to the front of his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a notebook. Matt looked behind him and saw his own painting behind the desk, hung prominently in the center of the wall, dwarfing the framed certificates on the periphery. It wasn't stored, still wrapped, in some corner of the Taylors' basement after all.

"Who's in here?" came a deep voice from the main door.

"Danny, it's me," Coach Taylor called.

A tall, muscular African-American man came inside the office. "Just saw the door was ajar," he said. "I just came by to grab something."

"Me too. Danny, this is my son-in-law Matt. Matt, this is Coach Washington."

Matt shook the man's outstretched hand. "Oh," Coach Washington said, "So you're the one who did that?" He motioned to the painting behind the desk.

"Uh…yeah," Matt answered.

Coach Washington snorted. "Yeah, Eric's always mentioning that. My son-in-law painted that. You see that painting? That's by my son-in-law. Did you notice my son-in-law's painting? Every frickin' time I walk into the office. Like I don't know by now. He's like that guy who won't stop showing you pictures of his kids."

Coach Taylor shook his head and shoved a binder against Coach Washington's chest. "This what you came for?"

Coach Washington smiled and took it. "Yeah. We still have that meeting Tuesday?"

Coach Taylor nodded. When Coach Washington was gone, Matt said, "So…_you_ like the painting?" Had Coach wanted Mrs. Taylor to buy it for him? She'd been the one to ask for it, to write the check.

"Sure. Of course."

"Why?" Matt asked. "You don't really like art, do you?" And how could his father-in-law like _that_ particular painting when it clearly implied that football was a thing of Matt's past? It wasn't that Matt didn't value what he'd learned on that field, or the friendships he'd forged there, but he didn't want to believe that winning a state ring was the best day of his life and would remain so forever. He didn't want his high school football days to be some old glory to be pathetically re-lived year after year, the way so many boosters did. When he'd painted that painting, he'd wanted to move on from football, away from it, to leave it behind on the way to a brighter future.

His father-in-law turned and looked at the painting. "Reminds me of what the Lions and I did together." He gestured to the tattered football in the corner of the overgrown field, and then to the rising sun on the far horizon. "Keeps me focused on what I'm hoping to do with the Pioneers. Coming from behind, you know." He waved his hand up and down in a sweeping motion outline of the overgrown grass. "And I guess it reminds me of life in general. So many weeds, so damn many weeds, but they don't choke life out in the end, do they? Sun still rises."

"Uh…" Matt looked at his own painting. "Yeah. I could see that."

"Well sure. You painted it."

A breath of air, almost a laugh, escaped Matt's mouth. "Yeah, well…art means different things to different people."

Coach Taylor took a few items from his desk. Matt was still staring at his own painting, seeing it, for the first time, as though it wasn't merely his own. "Got what I need," Coach Taylor said. "Ready to build a swing set?"

Matt nodded and followed his father-in-law back toward the parking lot. When Coach Taylor's back was to him, a broad smile spread across Matt's face.

Back at the Taylors', Coach Taylor went back and forth from grilling and building with Matt while Julie and Tami set the picnic table. The men, dripping with sweat, scarfed down their burgers and drained their ice tea while Gracie took two bites of her dinner and then ran for the new swing set. "Push me, Julie! Push me!"

"She can swing herself," Mrs. Taylor insisted, but Julie went over anyway.

"Good burgers, hon," Mrs. Taylor said. "I like your special seasoning."

"Do you?" Coach Taylor asked with a lecherous smile. "You like a little spice?"

She picked up a pickle chip and slid it sensuously into her mouth. "Mhmmmhm," she murmured.

Matt coughed and rose. "Think I better help Julie push," he said.

"Not anytime soon I hope," Mrs. Taylor said as he began to walk across the lawn. "I'm not ready to be a grandmother." Then, to her husband, "Do I look like a grandmother, sugar?"

Matt didn't hear Coach Taylor's reply, but he heard his mother-in-law's charmed laugh. He smiled as he neared the swing set and leaned one hand against the support. "Your parents are embarrassing," he said.

Julie smiled, that sweet, happy smile he so loved to see light up her face. "I know. They're horrible. But…" She bobbed her head a little, "I kind of hope they never stop embarrassing me."

He smiled, came behind her, pulled her back, and kissed her neck. "Let's embarrass Gracie," he whispered, and Julie craned her neck to kiss his lips.

"Inappropriate!" Gracie shouted.

**The End**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

"_Well I don't know if now's the time to think about futures given that the STIR across the G12 country currencies…"_

Coach Taylor looked absently out the window as the radio droned on. The Ferrari accelerated and then smoothly took the next curve in the road. Nate had been in New York for a series of client meetings and had decided to drive down to Philadelphia to meet him for lunch.

"_The thing is, Robbie, we're talking about call options-"_

"Exactly," Nate muttered at the radio. "If stocks go down you're going to wish you had that put option."

Coach Taylor turned his head from the road to Nate. His puzzled eyes remained hidden beneath dark sunglasses.

"_And that's why we're talking about underlying security here today on Financial Talk. Now- "_

"Could we maybe listen to Sports Radio?" Coach Taylor asked.

Nate took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at his father.

"Check the recap on the last football game?" Eric ventured.

"I didn't think the season had started yet," Nate said.

Was that a joke? "It's September."

"I thought it started late in September. Like the last week?"

Was this kid serious? They'd somehow avoided talking football the first time they'd met in that West Virginia coffee shop. Well, Coach Taylor had certainly said some things about football, and he _had_ noticed that Nate seemed to gloss over them without much response, but he thought that was just because the young man was interested in skipping the small talk and getting some family medical background. "Who's your team?" Eric asked.

"I don't follow football," Nate said.

"Say what now?"

"It's just not my thing." Nate shrugged. "I don't really watch sports."

"When you say you don't watch…what does that mean? You don't go to the games? But you watch on TV right?"

"Not really," Nate said. He motioned to the screen in the dashboard. "If you want sports radio, go ahead and find what you want."

Coach Taylor looked at the screen, the buttons, the words running across the screen. He had no idea how to use this damn thing. He looked back at Nate, who had his eyes on the road but his attention clearly attuned to the financial news. "Come on!" Nate was saying to the radio. "You've _got_ to buy at that point. That's precisely when you _want_ to buy."

Eric had once joked he ought to order up a DNA test on Julie. He thought of that now, as he watched Nate talk back to the financial analyst. Since the revelation, Julie had seen Nate more than Eric had. Nate had a lot of business in Chicago, and the half-siblings had hit it off surprisingly well.

Nate reached over and changed the station to a sports channel.

"You like barbecue though, right?" Coach Taylor asked him. The restaurant Eric had suggested for lunch was a barbecue joint. Philadelphia barbecue was, by and large, an unworthy affair. He'd found this one place, though, that was almost good enough to remind him a little bit of home.

"I didn't mention it?" Nate asked. "Not even in one of my e-mails? I'm a vegetarian."

Coach Taylor looked out the window again.

Later, as they drank their beers – thank God Nate at least drank beer – Coach Taylor said, "Julie's a vegetarian. Came home at twelve. Announced it. Tami said we should just let her, that she'd go back to eating meat on her own. And my wife is always right." He closed his menu. "Except on the rare occasions when she's not."

"Yeah, Julie took me to this great vegetarian Indian place in Chicago last time I was there."

"So you don't," Eric motioned to the pictures of ribs on the front of the menu, "eat this stuff for moral reasons? Health reasons? To impress a girl? Because there's only one of those that's a reasonable justification."

Nate smiled. "Does vegetarianism impress girls? I figured that's what the Ferrari's for." Then he laughed. "I'm giving you a hard time. I'm not really a vegetarian." The waitress was now at the side of the table, and Nate turned to her: "Five meat platter, please."

"Five meats," echoed Coach Taylor with a smile. "All five. Yeah, that's the way to do it."

Coach Taylor was licking his fingers after laying his sixth bone on the plate when Nate asked, "Have you refinanced your mortgage yet?"

"What?"

"Your mortgage. Have you refinanced recently?"

"We just moved here a little over a year ago."

"Yeah, but percentage rates have dropped precipitously in the past six months."

Coach Taylor covered his mouth with his fist to stifle a burp. "Yeah, I don't think we want to bother with that. Seems like a hassle."

"It's a hassle that can save you a lot of money in the long run," Nate insisted. "What's your current rate?"

"Uh…"

Nate shook his head, "Never mind, sorry. That's rude. I get carried away sometimes. This stuff is always in my head – finance, investments, numbers. It's exciting."

Coach Taylor laughed. "Exciting?"

Nate shrugged. "For me. I know it's not football." He picked up a rib and chowed down.

Eric's cell phone buzzed. He dismissed the call. But then it buzzed again. "Sorry, if I don't take this he's never going to stop," Eric said, and picked up the phone. "Hey, Buddy."

Buddy asked if Eric could secure some especially good seats for an upcoming Philadelphia Eagles game for a bar supplier he was trying to do business with, as if Eric had some kind of special connection to the Philadelphia Eagles. They went back and forth, and, as they talked, Eric couldn't help but think of Buddy's affair a few years ago. There was no comparison in the circumstances that had led to Buddy's transgression and Eric's own long ago one, which had unknowingly resulted in the son who now sat before him. Eric hadn't been discovered – he'd confessed. He hadn't dismissed the strength of Tami's reaction – he'd braced himself for it. He hadn't waited for things to "blow over" – he'd resolved to do whatever was required. Eric had walked away completely from his job. He'd done whatever the marriage counselor told him he had to do to salvage his marriage and reassure Tami – and yet when Buddy left the Taylor house that day a few years back in the aftermath of his own affair, he just stood there, saying so nonchalantly – "Pam will forgive me," like it was that easy, like _he_ didn't have to _do_ anything, or do it over and over again, for years.

Buddy had seemed entirely unaware that this wasn't just a blip in his marriage, that it wasn't just a passing disturbance. He had seemed entirely ignorant of the fact that if he didn't act, and act _now_, and act deliberately, and act consistently, he would lose everything. _Everything._ And that man had _kids_. At least Eric and Tami hadn't had children yet. Buddy had buried his head in football, like an ostrich in the sand – blind – and Eric had told him – "You need to worry about your family, man." He'd told him fairly calmly, but he'd wanted to reach out and grab Buddy around the neck, shake him, shout, _Wake up! Just wake up! Before it's too late._ Maybe he should have. But it wouldn't have mattered. Buddy was Buddy. And so Buddy had left that morning, swearing his fidelity – his _fidelity_ - to the _Panthers_.

And now that Eric's head was preoccupied with the fact that he had this son sitting across from him, as well as with the fact that Tami's old wound had been re-opened by Nate's sudden appearance, Buddy was calling to talk more football. "Buddy, I can't help you and I've got to go now."

"I can get him good seats," Nate said. He'd overheard enough of the conversation to know what Eric was being asked.

"You?" The kid who didn't know football season had started? "You've got connections?"

"I've got money. You don't need connections if you've got money. And I've got an assistant who helps me get anything I need."

When he was off the phone, Eric asked, "Is your assistant pretty?" What he really wanted to know was if his son had a girlfriend.

"_He's_ very pretty, yes."

Eric shifted in his seat. He couldn't tell if Nate was joking or…_Jesus_. The kid was very well dressed. Well groomed. And he'd spent a lot of time in Matt's gallery the last time he was in Chicago, buying up four works of art (though only one of Matt's). And he didn't watch sports at all. "You like art?" Eric said.

"I like it when it appreciates in value."

Oh might as well go straight for what he'd really meant to ask: "So, you, uh…Got a girlfriend?"

Nate nodded. "For the time being."

Oh thank God. Not that Eric had a problem with…that….not that there was anything wrong…with that…not that he would be a bigot about…that…but…_thank God_.

/FNL/

"You got something from Nate in the mail today," Tami said as soon as Eric got home from his away game. She was sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop and a glass of wine. As he put his bag in one of the chairs, Tami motioned to the Fed Ex envelope on the table. "How was your game?"

"We lost by seven points less than last year."

"That's good, hon. I'm proud of you."

"Uh-huh." He was ripping open the envelope. "Why did he send these to me?" he wondered aloud. "I gave him Buddy's address. I – Oh!"

Tami stopped typing and looked up. "What?"

"These are for us, babe. These are _season_ passes. For the Philadelphia Eagles' _entire_ season. Well, for the rest of it. And look! Look at these seats!" He turned the passes toward her and pointed to a line. His face was one huge smile, and it made her smile.

"Well, I guess you're going to some games with your son."

His smile faded. He shook his head. "Nah." He showed her the note, which said, "Thought you and your wife might like these. You said you love to go to games with her."

"Doesn't mean he doesn't want you to take him to at least one," Tami said.

Eric slumped down in the chair. "Nah." He pulled his cap off and set it on the table. "He's too busy. He's never in Phili more than a couple of hours. And he doesn't like football anyway."

"Oh, babe," she said softly and came over and caressed his cheek.

"It's okay, he said. "It is what it is. It's just…never mind."

"Tell me. It's okay to talk to me about Nate. I can handle it." The first few weeks after Nate's appearance had been rocky, but they'd used the tools they'd learned long ago in marriage counseling, and they'd solidified things fairly quickly. "And I want to know what's going on," she lay a hand over his heart, "in there."

"It's just…I never had a chance to be his father. I missed out on building a relationship with him, and now…there's nothing there. There isn't going to be anything there."

"There could be."

He shook his head. "He and I both know that's not going to happen." He sighed. "We're not really family. We're blood, but we're not family."

She kissed him. "I wish I could do something to help."

"You help," he said, burying a hand in her hair. He kissed her softly and whispered, "You help just by being you. Thank you."

She slid into the chair next to him. "I want to meet him," she said. "Have Nate here for coffee next time he's in town."

Eric's eyes were like a deer's in the headlights. "Tami, I don't think that's a good idea. At all." They'd worked through their marriage issues before Julie was born, and they'd had a long, happy marriage, but Nate's existence had inevitably pricked the old wound. If Tami saw the boy face to face, would it tear off the healing scab for good?

"I know you don't," Tami said, "and I understand why, but it's what I've decided."

Eric took her hand on the table. "Tami, please, listen – "

"- If he's going to be a part of your life, then I don't want to be a complete outsider. I don't want to be _outside_ your life in any way. That's not good for our marriage either."

He pulled her into his lap and kissed her tenderly. "I want you inside, babe. I just don't want you hurt."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and slid her fingers into the hair at the back of his head. She kissed him. "It's time," she said. "It's time for me to meet him."

/FNL/

Tami saw the red Ferrari ease into a spot along the curb. As Eric unlatched the deadbolt, Tami wondered if she'd made a mistake asking to meet Nate. What would the kid look like? Like Eric, or like…_her_?

Tami had never met the other woman, before or after the affair. Those more than twenty-three years ago, the counselor had strongly urged Tami not to track the woman down and not to ask for too many details about the affair. Tami had ignored his advice on both counts. She'd hounded Eric for details, though he'd been wisely vague. Then, a day before they moved out of town (Eric had already taken the counselor's advice to quit his job), Tami snuck into the high school and looked for the woman's picture in the staff directory plastered to the main hall. She wanted to know what the other woman looked like, if she was prettier, skinnier, classier…what.

Intellectually, Tami knew none of that was why Eric had done it. She knew it had more to do with the fact that he and Tami were fighting, Tami had said hurtful things, and she'd left him for Dallas without letting him know when – or, to be honest, even _if_ - she was coming back – and, while she was gone, that woman had made him feel valued. Wanted. Tami had known that, but she'd gone to look at the picture anyway. And the woman wasn't prettier - she was only moderately attractive – she was nothing special at all, which, in a way, almost made it worse. Tami had thought of finding the woman's class and telling her right to her face just how much pain she had caused, of asking her – eye to eye - if she cared at all about anyone other than herself, but she didn't. She just slinked out of the school, sat in the car in the parking lot, and cried.

Tami had lost the vision of the photograph completely within two or three years of the affair. But seeing Nate…would that bring it all back?

Eric was opening the door. Tami searched the young man's features as he stepped inside. She didn't see the woman she'd forgotten, but she didn't precisely see Eric either. Mostly, she thought of Julie. The kid held out his hand to her without quite meeting her eyes. They sat down to coffee at the kitchen table while Gracie remained in the living room to play with her dolls. Nate had glanced at the little girl, his eyes all curiosity, as they walked through the foyer. They told Gracie he was a friend stopping for a visit, and she didn't ask any questions.

Nate complimented Tami's coffee-making skills, as though it required some special gift. He studied the liquid in his cup. When there was a thud and Gracie called "Ouuuuch!" from the living room, Eric left to investigate. As soon as he was gone, Nate, still looking in his cup, said, "Please don't hate her. She regretted it. She was a good mom to me. She didn't want to be a home wrecker."

_Well then maybe she shouldn't have invited my husband to her bed, _Tami thought.

"That's why she never told him about me. Or me about him. She wanted to give him a chance to fix his marriage. It really surprised me, you know, death bed confession and all, because….she's not…wasn't….like that."

Whatever anger Tami might have been feeling dissolved beneath the heat of her compassion. She'd almost forgotten this boy had lost his mother this year, his only parent – well, the only parent he'd ever known, until recently. "Oh, honey," Tami said. "I forgave her a long time ago." It wasn't entirely true. She'd mostly just forgotten the woman, but the truth didn't matter right now.

Nate smiled hesitantly and looked up. "He talked about you constantly the first time we met, your husband. My…father."

Tami flashed her sweet, southern smile – the one she used for public consumption. She tried to put Nate at ease by switching the topic to something she knew would interest him. "Eric said you had some ideas about refinancing our mortgage?" Within minutes, she had her laptop open, and Nate was making her Excel spreadsheets, offering a wide variety of financial advice.

When Nate left later, Eric sat next to Tami on the living room couch. Gracie was lying on her stomach on the floor and coloring. Eric put an arm around Tami's shoulders and searched her eyes. She told him, without words, that she was okay.

"I love you," he said, and she accepted his kiss - more than accepted it - welcomed it.

When their lips parted, she asked, "What's with that car, do you think?"

Eric looked befuddled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's a little flashy, don't you think? Nate seems like a pretty down-to-earth kid. Why would he drive something like that?"

"Uh…because he _can_."

"But it's so…in-your-face," she said. "He was very practical about all the financial advice he was giving. And that car is extremely impractical. I just don't understand. Why would he buy it?"

"Because it's a Ferrari. And because…it's awesome."

"Did _you_ really just say awesome?"

"Well, words fail me."

She laughed. "You wouldn't buy something like that just because you could, would you?"

"Tami, baby, it's a Ferrari!"

"_You_ would never buy a car like that."

"Yeah, you're right, babe. If I were rich, I'd just buy you diamonds. Lots and lots of diamonds."

She laughed. "I'd settle for you taking me out to dinner later tonight. I don't feel like cooking."

"A'ight," Eric said. He was about to kiss Tami again when the doorbell sounded.

"If that's Buddy Garrity," Tami joked, "I'm finally going to _unpack_ your old deer rifle."

It was Nate. "Hey," the young man said, "my appointment just cancelled. I've got a bit before I have to head out. Want to drive the Ferrari?"

Nate stood at the edge of the living room while Eric grabbed his sunglasses from off the top of the entertainment center. "Just don't go over the speed limit, hon," Tami told him.

Nate and Eric looked at each other and laughed, and that was the moment when Tami saw the striking resemblance. "Yes, ma'am," said Nate. "I'll see that he doesn't."

Eric and Nate were both guffawing when the front door closed.

/FNL/

"Be warned," Nate said ominously. "I'm watching the speedometer."

Eric accelerated the Ferrari. "Well, my wife doesn't even understand why you'd buy this car in the first place. She thinks it's too flashy and that you're not a flashy guy at heart."

"Well…she has a point, but…were you popular in high school?"

Eric slowed to a stop at a light. "Yeah, I guess." He wasn't ultra_-_popular like Mo, but he was popular enough. He'd been a football player, after all, even if a second string one. He'd been in good shape, if a little riddled with acne. He'd never had too much trouble with girls, except for the one girl he'd really wanted.

Once Tami finally agreed to date Eric, their senior year of high school, she'd been on again off again with him for years, and he'd always waited for her to wend her way back. She never cheated - she always officially broke up with Eric before she saw anyone else, but there had been two other guys – that he knew of - in those years between their first date and their wedding day. He thought that marriage would finally chain her to him, but six months into it, she'd stormed out of their apartment and off to Dallas, and aside from being injured, he'd also been angry…and weary. Just plain weary.

"Well I wasn't popular," Nate said. "At all. And that's an understatement. So…" He waved a hand around the car. "Maybe this is my big screw you."

Eric revved the engine and peeled off as the light turned green. He glanced at Nate and tried to imagine why he hadn't been popular. Was he not as good-looking then? Was it just the obsession with finance? "Bet you're popular now, though, huh?"

"It's hard to tell, you know, why girls are interested. If it's just the money."

"Well, you could always shed the Ferrari and disguise yourself as a pauper like in that movie."

"What movie?" Nate asked.

"I don't know. I'm sure there was some movie. About some prince disguised as a pauper. Finding a princess. Or something."

Nate laughed.

"Where are we going?" he asked later as Eric pulled into a large, vacant lot.

"This here, son, is where I'm forced to teach Pemberton High's Driver's Ed four months of the year." He'd said son only because that was how he talked to most young men. Only after he'd said it did he realize how familiar it might sound to Nate. He hoped the kid didn't find it to be too much, too soon. He glanced at Nate out of the corner of his eye.

"Well, old man," Nate said. "Are we getting the cones, or what?"

Eric smiled. "Oh, we're getting the cones."

"We're doing backwards figure eights, aren't we?"

"Damn right we are," Eric answered as they got out of the car. He looked over the hood of the Ferrari at Nate. "Hey, you maybe want to go to a football game with me sometime?"

"You maybe want to go to a financial seminar with me?"

"Uh…"

Nate smiled. "I appreciate that you want to spend time with me, but maybe we can manage find something we _both_ like to do?"

Eric nodded. As they walked toward the exterior storage closet where Eric kept the cones, Nate asked, "You like to hike? I mean, the walking through the woods kind of hike. Not that thing they shout in football."

A smile spread across Coach Taylor's face. A few months ago, his world was threatening to come apart at its seems, but his family had weathered the storm; their love for one another had held them together; forgiveness had showered him like a spring rain, and now something new and beautiful might have a chance to bloom.


	8. Chapter 8

**PART II:  
LEARNING TO FLY **

**2.1**

When Trya Collete turned in her last final exam, it was a 69-degree Texas December day, at least until she stepped _off_ the plane and into the howling winter wind of Chicago. Having rounded out her college education in four and a half years, she was now interviewing for two positions in the windy city. She was going to be a counselor like Mrs. T., not that Mrs. T did that anymore. The woman had some prestigious position at a swank east coast college now.

Tyra had turned down Matt and Julie's offer to stay with them while she was in town. Their loft was cozy. It _looked_ impressive, with those high ceilings, but there was no privacy. Tyra really didn't need to listen to the newlyweds bump and grind all night, certainly not after she'd sworn off sex herself. After three botched relationships in college, intertwined with random Riggins hook-ups, Tyra had been celibate for the past six months. She'd decided if she was ever going to leave her past behind, she needed to concentrate on developing her future, and sex was nothing but a distraction.

So Tyra had reserved a motel, and this evening she was only visiting Matt and Julie. She leaned back against the wall of the apartment complex's elevator and thought how little she wanted to return to Dillon for Christmas. Sure she wanted to see her nephew and twin nieces, but her mother and sister only reminded her of the past she was striving to escape. And, yes, she wanted to see how Tim Riggins was doing, but they'd stopped hooking up well over a year ago. Tyra loved him like a bittersweet memory, like a place you miss but know you can never return to.

When Tyra arrived at the loft apartment, Julie led her to the kitchen where Matt turned an open bag of corn chips in her direction as she leaned against the counter.

"My cousin Nate's going to be joining us for dinner tonight," Julie said. "He's in Chicago for business, so I hope you don't mind him tagging along."

"Cousin?" Tyra asked. "How do you have a cousin when your dad has no siblings and your Aunt Shelley never mentioned a kid? I mean, I met Shelley twice. She talks like if she doesn't get her words out a bomb is going to explode, but she never mentioned a kid."

"Uh…" Julie's eyes darted to Matt's.

"Second cousin?" he ventured.

Tyra tilted her head toward Matt. "Second cousins come from first cousins, genius."

"Well…uh…oh...umm..." Julie said. "My dad's cousin!"

Tyra's eyes narrowed. "I'm not buying it."

"Fine," Julie said. "Nate's my long-lost half-brother."

One of Tyra's eyebrows arched itself. "What?"

"It's a long story. He was born before me, to some woman other than my mom. My dad didn't even know he existed until recently."

Tyra shook her head. So Coach Taylor had a secret bastard child? Go figure. Julie seemed surprisingly _not_ a basket case about the matter. Tyra guessed she had worked through the shock – and it had to be a shock for the Taylor princess. Coach Taylor was the epitome of a family man in Dillon, and Julie was no Tyra. For all Tyra knew, she herself had a half dozen half siblings somewhere. Who knew where her dad had been before and after Angela Collette. "So what's your brother look like?" she asked.

"Why do you ask?" Julie said with a wry smile. "I thought you were being celibate until you've established your career."

Tyra rolled her eyes. "Curiosity."

"He looks kind of like my dad, but younger of course, and his hair is a lighter brown."

"But he has Julie's eyes," Matt added.

"So he's as good-looking as your dad?" Tyra asked.

"What?" Julie asked. "You don't think my _dad's_ good-looking, do you? He's over twice your age!"

Matt glanced at Tyra and suppressed a smile.

"Come on," Tyra said, just to rile Julie up. It was fun and easy to do, much easier than it had ever been to rile up Landry or Tim or any other friend. "All the girls at Dillon High thought your father was hot."

"Eww…" Julie squealed, taking a step away from the counter in the open kitchen. She put her fingers in her ears and walked away toward the bathroom.

Matt was laughing when she left. "You gotta not say that kind of stuff to Julie," he said.

"So I probably shouldn't say Tim and half the other guys used to talk about what a nice rack Mrs. T had either, huh?"

Matt stood up straight from where he was leaning on the counter. "Don't you dare. That's my mother-in-law you're talking about now. Besides - "

Matt was interrupted by the ringing of the phone. He picked it up, said, "I'll buzz you," and held down the number. "And be nice to Nate."

Tyra slid her hand into an open bag of chips and removed one. "I'm always nice," she said just before she crushed the chip mercilessly between her teeth.

**/FNL/**

By the time Nate got up to the loft, Julie was back out of the bathroom, and the half siblings hugged. Then Julie introduced Nate to Tyra. She noticed how Nate smiled when he saw her - the kind of smile most guys smiled when they first saw her - the kind that said, _My you'd look nice in my bed._

She shot one disdainful glance at his well-dressed figure and said, "What's with the mafia power suit?"

As she expected, his smile faded. "I came straight from a meeting with clients."

"What do you do?" she asked him.

"Investments."

She scoffed. "That's one of those vague, bullshit terms."

Nate raised an eyebrow. Tyra couldn't tell if he was offended or aroused.

"What do you _really_ do?" she asked.

"Really?" Nate said. "Really, I sell babies on the black market."

Matt snorted.

Nate's eyes went from Tyra's eyes, down to her hips, and then back up to her eyes. "You have lovely child-bearing hips. So in case you ever need some extra cash, please, do take my business card." He fished in the front pocket of his suit coat and handed her a card.

Tyra looked at the words "Investments" and then looked at him. She hadn't expected his comeback. These days, when she wanted to put off a guy – and she'd wanted to do that a lot lately – she just gave her disdain wide birth. That usually cowed them into at least temporary silence. But now, she couldn't even think of a decent comeback of her own. Finally, she settled rather pathetically on a smirk and "Okay, big shot. I guess you're treating us _all_ to dinner tonight."


	9. Chapter 9

**2.2**

As they waited for the elevator, Julie said, "Hey, by the way, I forgot to ask - how did the hiking trip go with Dad last month?" Nate shot a startled look at Tyra. "It's okay," Julie said. "She knows we're not cousins. I'm not using that story anymore. Though Landry totally bought it."

"I'm not Landry," Tyra reminded her.

Nate relaxed. "It went well," he said as the elevator doors swung open and they all stepped on. Matt hit the button for the lobby and then took Julie's hand. "November in West Virginia," Nate continued. "It was cold, as you can imagine, but all that walking…we hardly noticed. Dad's in surprisingly good shape for his mid-forties."

Tyra was observing all three of them as they talked and thought Matt looked just a little bit jealous. She doubted Coach Taylor had ever taken his son-in-law hiking.

Julie shook her head. "Three hours alone in the woods with my dad is not exactly my idea of a good time. What did you talk about?"

Nate leaned back against the wall. "Our feelings."

The cloud of jealousy that had passed Matt's face dissolved with his laughter.

When they got on the street, they drew their coats tightly around themselves and double wrapped their scarves. As they walked shivering beneath the brilliant glow of the many Christmas lights, Nate suggested they take his car and drive a few blocks closer to the restaurant. If they could be spared the chill even for a little bit, it would be worth it.

"We can't all fit in your car," Matt said, and then stopped short in front of the dark blue Ford Mustang Nate was unlocking. "Wait, what happened to the Ferrari?"

"Nothing. It's at home. This is just a rental. I flew in this time." Nate opened the front passenger's door.

"You _would_ own a Ferrari," Tyra said.

Matt and Julie climbed in the back and Tyra took shotgun. Nate closed the door for her, came around, and got in the driver's side.

"What did you mean by that?" Nate asked her as he pulled away from the curb.

"I've known guys like you all my life," Tyra said.

"And what kind of guy is that?"

"Flashy. Self-assured. You've got to flaunt whatever it is you've got and expect people to applaud. I used to date guys like you."

"That sounds more like a judgment on you than on me." Nate switched lanes.

"I bet you played football in high school."

"Hey, what's wrong with playing football?" asked Matt from the backseat.

Tyra turned her head. "You were different, Matty, sweetheart. You were always different. You and Landry." She turned back and looked at Nate. "You were QB1, right?"

"Sembcorp Industries?" Nate asked.

Matt laughed from the back seat. "Dude, she means first string quarterback." Julie giggled. She was leaning with her head against Matt's shoulder. Like a teenager, Tyra thought. Which, technically, Julie had been just a few months ago.

"Look," Nate continued, "all I know about QB1 is that it's the Singapore Exchange symbol for Sembcorp Industries."

"You didn't play football?" Tyra asked. "What sport _did_ you play?" Looking over his physique, she tried to guess. He was a bit too big for a swimmer, but he certainly didn't quite have a wrestler's build. Baseball was a possibility, with those lean but muscular arms. She couldn't tell now with that heavy winter coat, but he'd taken it off in the loft and she'd noticed. Not that she'd been paying special attention to him or anything. She just happened to be observant.

"I didn't play any sport," Nate answered. "I was in the business club. And the National Honor Society. You know…I was one of those guys who never got the time of day from girls like you."

"And what kind of girl is that?" Tyra asked.

"The kind of girl who used to date the kind of guy I apparently am now but wasn't back then."

"Are you two flirting," Matt asked, "or do you genuinely hate each other after only five minutes?"

"Well we sure as hell aren't flirting," Tyra said and lowered the sun visor to check her makeup in the mirror. She flipped it back up. "Does this thing seriously have a rearview camera?"

Nate was backing up to parallel park along the street. In the area of the dash that had previously listed information about the Sirus radio station, a camera-like view of the rear had just appeared.

"Of course," Nate said. "So I don't run over any little children. They're much more valuable to me on the black market alive than dead."

In the back seat, Matt and Julie chuckled.

At the restaurant, they all ordered beer, but the waitress asked for IDs. Tyra, Nate, and Matt fished theirs out of their wallets - - but Julie sat sheepishly and muttered, "Never mind. Diet Coke."

When the waitress was gone, Matt chuckled. "You can have a sip of mine."

"That's the _one_ thing I really miss about Dillon," Julie said, "You _never_ got carded."

The four continued to talk until their food arrived, and then after silently shoveling mouthfuls for a time, the conversation resumed. Tyra was telling Julie about her future goals – how she was going to build a career as a counselor for a few years, save some money, evaluate the field, and then maybe make the shift to politics.

"Politics, huh?" Nate asked just before he raised his beer and sipped.

"Yep," Tyra said. "Local. I'm not aiming for the presidency or anything."

"So what's your issue?"

"My issue?" Tyra lay her fork down.

"Yeah, what are you passionate about?" Nate asked. "What's your political cause? Do you have one main issue, or two or three…or are you just a straight, party line kind of girl? What party do you support anyway?"

"I'm a Democrat of course." Tyra leaned back against the booth and surveyed Nate. "You're a Republican aren't you? I should have known. I _did_ know."

He shrugged. "Well, I vote Republican 52% of the time."

"52%?" Tyra asked. "And, what, you vote for Democrats 48% of the time?"

"She can subtract." Nate raised his beer as if toasting her. "Pretty good for a Democrat."

"Ha. Ha."

"Actually, more like 30% of the time," Nate said. "I vote libertarian the other…uh…" His eyes moved back and forth as he calculated.

"Eighteen percent," Tyra finished for him.

A self-deprecating smile crossed Nate's face. "Yeah. You're quick."

He had a cute smile, but Tyra wasn't going to let that faze her. "So why don't you stick with one party?" she asked.

"Because I vote for whoever I think is going to be best for the economy in that particular election. That's my big issue. Well, that and they have to have at least a _slight_ chance of winning, or I'd always vote libertarian."

"You think libertarians are always best for the economy?" Tyra asked.

"Yep. Especially if you're a prostitute or a drug dealer."

Tyra crossed her arms over her chest. "Which I presume you are."

"Yes, both."

She laughed. "Hmm…so who did you vote for in the last presidential election? Some libertarian tax evader running from prison?"

"Hey, an inmate would probably be better for this country's economy than most politicians. Inmates know a lot about making do with limited resources."

"You just don't want to pay high taxes on all the money you make," Tyra told Nate.

Matt looked at Julie and smiled. Julie rolled her eyes. She reached for his hand, and Matt took it in his own. Together, they watched the unraveling argument.

"No. I just want to be free to make that money in the first place without having to fill out 652 government forms a year. So what's your favorite political issue?"

"Education mostly."

"Education. What's that mean?" he asked.

"I think it's important," Tyra said.

Nate snickered. "Who doesn't? But what does that mean to you politically?"

"Well obviously I'd like to see funding for education increased."

"Why?" Nate asked. "Because throwing money at something always makes it better?"

Tyra uncrossed her arms and sat straighter. "Well it doesn't make it _worse_."

"Depends. You can inflate the price, distort – "

"- Dessert?" asked a cheerful waitress, putting the dessert menu flat on the table in front of them.

"Take the chocolate mountain cake, for instance," Nate said, tapping the photo on the menu. "That's $1.99 more than the caramel sundae. That's _forty percent_ more expensive, which you probably wouldn't notice unless you were directly paying for it yourself. Someone else pays for it, and you don't appreciate the breadth of that price differential. And I guarantee you it's not forty percent _better_ than the caramel sundae."

As he spoke, the waitress looked from Nate to the other members of the table with a hesitant – and slightly frightened - smile on her face.

"It's just bigger," Nate continued. "You're not going to eat it all, there's going to be waste, there's too much whip cream and not enough sauce because you don't have to pay for the ingredients separately, and if - "

" - He'll have the chocolate mountain cake," Tyra told the waitress. "Because he can afford it. I'll help him eat it, because we live in community and we're all gifted in different ways, and it can't just be every rich asshole for himself. So bring two forks."

"Ah…okay…" The waitress said, and looked at Matt and Julie.

"Decaf coffee," Julie said.

"Another beer," Matt said.

The waitress made her speedy get away.

"I'm allergic to chocolate," Nate said as she left. "But I realize the welfare of the individual is of less value to the socialist than the continued support of the system itself."

"Yeah, that's deep," Tyra said with dripping sarcasm. "That's clever. That's the go-to for all you Republicans. Someone disagrees with you, instead of engaging their argument, you just call them a commie."

"I said a socialist, not a communist. Although I see your hair _is_ red." Nate was looking across the table at her with a slight smile. She'd dyed it recently. No more black-haired Tyra, but she wasn't ready to revert to her life as a blonde, either. "But clearly red isn't your natural color. Clearly it's something you've adopted, perhaps only after several years at college. So there's hope."

"Uh…guys…" Julie suggested. "Could we maybe talk about…movies?"


	10. Chapter 10

**2.3**

Tyra wasn't sure how she ended up in the Mustang alone with Nate. She'd just asked for a bus schedule, and the next thing she knew, Julie was insisting that Nate personally drop her off at her motel on the way to his own. "So Coach Taylor's son really never played football?" she asked as they drove. "That's hard to believe."

Nate shrugged. "I don't even watch it."

"Was he shocked when you told him?" she asked.

"He probably would have taken it better if I'd told him I was gay."

Tyra laughed. She reached forward and adjusted the heat. Then she changed the radio station. "I hate country," she said. "You like it?"

"I put on that station because I assumed you'd like it. Texas girl and all. You don't?"

"If I never see another guy with a cowboy hat again, I think I can die content," she said. "I hope I get one of these jobs in Chicago. Or the one I applied for in New York. I guess the Dallas and Austin ones would be okay, but I'm ready to get out of Texas. Where do you live?"

"Columbus," he answered. "Ohio." As if she didn't know. "But eventually I'll move either here, D.C., New York, or Dallas."

"Why Dallas?" She was working her way out of Texas and couldn't imagine why someone would be working his way in.

"There's a lot of cash in an oil rich town. I have a bunch of clients there already. And I'm getting tired of the travel. I need to pick just one city, build up my base there, and gradually cut off the rest."

"Which of those cities is closest to your girlfriend?"

He smiled. "That was subtle."

Somehow, Tyra managed to make a scoffing sound through her nose alone. "I didn't ask it because I want to know if you're available. Trust me, I'm not interested."

"Well, in answer to the question you asked because you didn't want to know the answer – Columbus, which is why I moved there in the first place. But a couple months ago she asked me if we could start seeing other people, so I'm pretty sure it's just about over."

"Uh-huh. A likely story."

"What?" he asked. "You think I'm really in an exclusive relationship but I'm trying to seduce you on the side? Who's self-assured now? Who's flaunting whatever she's got?"

"I'm not flaunting anything," Tyra said. "What the hell have I flaunted? It's kind of hard, in nearly zero degree weather, to show off my assets."

In obedience to the GPS's directions Nate made a turn. "Hmmm…well…only if you have a rather narrow view of your assets. See, that's why I'm so successful as a financial planner. I see the assets that aren't obvious to most people."

"Speaking of which - I can't believe people entrust their money to a twenty-one year old."

"I'm twenty-two. And you'd believe it if you saw what I did for them. I'll be happy to help you with your financial planning, pro bono, since you're a friend of Julie's."

Tyra snorted. "Ooooh…what can you get me with my $5,000 life savings?"

"$10,000. In four years."

"Hmmm…" she said. "Think I'll just hold onto that. I might want to buy some furniture when I move."

"No one gets rich without the ability to delay gratification. You can always sleep on a sleeping bag. Crates make nice bookcases."

"Yeah." She ran a hand over the dashboard of the car. "This is just your _rental_. Your Ferrari's apparently at home. Clearly you know all about delayed gratification."

"I didn't buy my Ferrari until I could afford to pay cash twice over for it."

"That's why you don't care about funding education. You probably had your ivy league education handed to you on a platter, and – "

"- First of all, I was raised by a single mother."

Tyra knew Coach Taylor wasn't around, if only because he didn't know he had a son, but she assumed Nate's mom had gotten married at some point and there was a rich non-biological dad in the picture.

"And," Nate continued, "she was a public school teacher her whole life."

Tyra jerked her head toward him. "Really? And you don't support public education?"

"I didn't say I don't support it," Nate clarified. "I just think it would be improved by structural re-organization, a la carte pricing, and a segregation of funding and production."

"I have no idea what that means. I don't think you do either."

"And third," he continued, "I didn't go to an ivy league college, or any college at all."

"How did you manage to – "

"- I'm self-taught. And I took certification tests here and there. Education is more than a system, more than buildings and budgets. The only reason the system works is because someone _within_ the system inspires you to learn _outside_ the system. A particular teacher, a coach, a –

"- Counselor," Tyra interrupted. Where would she be today if not for Mrs. Taylor? Stuck in Dillon, Texas, walking in the footsteps of her mother.

"Or a counselor." Nate turned again at the direction of the GPS and began driving through a rather sketchy part of town. "How did you find this motel?"

"On the internet," she said, trying to hide the concern in her voice. She glanced at the GPS. It indicated they were very near the motel.

**/FNL/**

"They were totally flirting," Matt insisted.

Julie's chin was on his chest, and she was looking up at him. They had the thick, plush blanket on. It felt nice and soft and warm on her naked body. They'd just enjoyed a very vigorous round of love making, and Julie was now glad Tyra had decided to get a motel, because they hadn't exactly been quiet. "I don't know," she said. "They're sooooo different, and Tyra claims she's managed to stay celibate for six months."

"_Claims_ is the key word," Matt muttered.

"I actually believe her. She's really serious about concentrating on her career."

Matt lazily ran his fingertips through Julie's hair. "I think you have to actually _have_ a career before you can concentrate on it."

Julie's lips curved against his chest. She kissed the flesh and looked up into his smiling eyes. "Well, even if she's lying about the no sex thing, they're still never going to hook up. They were totally arguing tonight."

"That was foreplay," Matt said.

Julie laughed. "Strange foreplay. I prefer stroking and kissing."

He rolled onto his side with her and cupped her breast. "I know you do," he said, grinning.

She pushed his hand away. "This is talking time," she said. "No more fooling around."

He frowned. He was so cute when he pouted. "Well…" she said… "Maybe a quickie this time."

**/FNL/**

Nate drove a little farther and they arrived at their destination. The place had bars on the windows and people milling languidly about outside, at least one of whom held a paper bag with the neck of a bottle extending from its top.

"Well you aren't staying here," he said.

"Just pull up front and drop me off," Tyra insisted.

He did pull around the front, but he kept driving. "You aren't staying there."

"Go back," Tyra said. "Where are you taking me?"

"Not there."

As Nate left the motel behind them, Tyra said, "Well that's what I can afford. Matt and Julie barely have room for themselves and I really prefer not to listen to their bump and grind all night."

"Better theirs than the crack whore next door to you in that motel."

"Turn around," she insisted, but with little enthusiasm. She sighed. "Okay, you're right, I don't want to stay there. Chicago is fucking expensive. I bet even _you_ can agree it's fucking expensive."

"I don't think Chicago's fucking anything. I mean, it's a city, and cities don't fuck anything, let alone adjectives."

"Ha ha," she looked out the window. The neighborhood was growing less sketchy as they began to drive back in the direction of the downtown area where they'd eaten. "You're one of those guys who doesn't like a potty mouth on a girl." She turned back to him. "It's okay for _you_ to swear, but the ladies shouldn't swear, right?"

"Actually, I don't swear," he said. "Because I don't lack imagination."

"Fuck that," she said. "Who needs fucking imagination when you can shock people with so little effort?" Tyra pulled out her smart phone and started tapping away at it. She didn't like the hefty monthly fee, but she'd felt she needed it if she was going to find and maintain a good job. At the moment, she only had one bar and the internet was very slow.

"What are you looking for?" he asked.

"I don't want bother Matt and Julie. I'm going to find someplace not quite as horrifying, but still not more than my last paycheck." Because her last paycheck was really her _last_ paycheck. She'd quit her waitressing gig in Austin last week, which, along with a partial scholarship and a loan, had been getting her through college. After these interviews, she'd stay with her mom in Dillon for the rest of December, and by the time the month was over, she hoped to have a _real_ job in a _real_ city.

"Why don't you just stay in my hotel room? I got it comped anyway because of this frequent traveler plan I'm on."

Tyra rolled her eyes. "Well, as _imaginative_ a way you have of asking 'Why don't you fuck me tonight?' I think my answer's still going to have to be no."

"I wasn't asking that. I was offering you my room. I'll get another free room for myself. I've got tons of points. They're probably going to expire if I don't use them soon."

She glanced at him. He seemed earnest. "I don't want to be obligated to you for anything."

"You won't. I just told you. It's free to me anyway."

He was fiddling with the GPS with one hand while he kept his other on the steering wheel. He put in the hotel. Waldorf Astoria. Of course. "You couldn't settle for second or third best?" she asked.

"It's free to me. And I'm meeting some of my clients in the restaurant there, so it's convenient. I'm not out to get my dick waxed."

Tyra raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't swear."

"Well I thought I'd make a special exception just for you."

"How magnanimous of you."

She saw his smile reflected in the windshield. "See," he said, "you do have a vocabulary after all."


	11. Chapter 11

**2.4**

"What do I get if I win?" Matt asked. He was on his back and Julie was half-sitting up. After their quickie, they'd once again started arguing about the likelihood of Tyra and Nate hooking up.

"What do you mean, what do you get?"

Matt grinned, that wide, Saracen smile. "We should make it interesting."

Julie raised an eyebrow. "What do you _want_ if you win?"

"To sketch you naked. Any pose I ask for."

She rolled her eyes. "Like in _Titanic_?"

"No, it would be a different pose. And I'm much bigger and more manly than that scrawny guy. But I'd still find a way to fit on the life raft with you."

Julie laughed. "Yeah, and I'd donate the necklace to charity instead of tossing it into the ocean. Okay. If they hook up, I'll let you sketch me naked."

"Really?" He'd been asking for months, but, no matter how vigorous their sex life, Julie was just too shy to sit completely naked beneath his uninterrupted gaze for _that_ long a time, even though he'd assured her he would be "professional."

"Sure," Julie said. "Because they're **not** going to hook up."

"Wait, how are we defining hook up?"

"All the way. Well I mean any kind of sex. But not _just_ kissing."

Matt nodded. "Okay. And what do you want if you win? Not that you're going to win, because they are so going to do it when he drops her at her motel." He glanced at the clock. "They probably already have."

"I want to sketch _you_ naked."

Matt rolled laughing on his side. "Seriously. What do you want?"

"A baby."

Matt's eyes widened. "What?"

"Just kidding!"

"Damn, Julie. Don't do that. That's not funny. We agreed. Six years."

"Or four."

"No, we agreed six," Matt said.

"We said three to six."

"No. We said _six_."

Julie laughed.

"Stop trying to freak me out!" He grabbed her close, rolled her beneath himself, and started tickling her. She pushed him off. "Okay, what do you want if you win?" he asked.

"I want a thirty minute backrub every day for a month."

"That's a bit much," Matt said, "but I'll agree to it." He smirked. "Since you're going to lose. Because they're totally doing it right now. Even as we speak."

**/ FNL /**

When Nate pulled around the ostentatious half circular driveway of the hotel, he stopped in front of a large fountain that glowed with light. He turned off the car and got out. Some valet tried to open Tyra's door but she just about slammed him in the gut with the door when she opened it herself. She apologized. She wasn't trying not to be served. It just hadn't occurred to her that she should be. Nate chuckled. He popped the trunk. The bellhop loaded his suitcase, a laptop bag, and Tyra's suitcase onto a dolly.

Tyra looked up with awe as they walked into the lobby. When they got to the front counter and Nate began explaining his need for another room, the concierge told him they were completely booked. He asked them to call around to other area hotels to find him a place and was told that she could, but really, everyone was probably booked. The Christmas season was busy and, besides, there was a convention.

Tyra glanced at her watch. It was getting pretty late. She really didn't want to go all the way back to Matt and Julie's now and drag them out of bed to buzz her in. "How many beds in the room?" Tyra asked.

"In the one Mr. Andrews initially reserved? Two king-size."

Tyra glanced at him. "We could share the room," she said, "As long as there are no fucking expectations."

He laughed. "A _**precise**_ use of the word for a change. Now that's clever. Quite."

As he was slipping the card keys the receptionist had just handed him into his front suit pocket, Tyra said, "_Quite_. _Indubitably_. If I had top hat, I'd tip it to you." She began to follow him toward the elevator. "Do you try to be pretentious, or does that just kind of slip out?"

"Oh, it's very calculated," he said. "I do it intentionally just to annoy you."

Tyra smacked the elevator button. The bellhop who was going to push it for them stepped back and looked at her warily.

**/FNL/**

Tyra claimed the bed nearest the bathroom. She didn't want to have to walk past Nate in the middle of the night if she had to pee. There was a big-screen television on the dresser across from them, a spacious sitting room with a coffee table, a couch, yet another TV (in case you needed two TV's in one hotel room), and a desk. They had a small kitchen area too. It was nicer than any hotel room she'd ever stayed in, but they'd still be intimate enough here. More intimate than she wanted.

She plopped her suitcase down, opened it, and immediately began shoving things in the drawer of the small dresser by her bed. Meanwhile, Nate went into the bathroom and came out in sweats and a white undershirt. He threw his suit into a dry cleaning bag. He looked considerably less alpha male now. His light brown hair wasn't neatly arranged anymore. It was unruly and sticking up in all sorts of places.

Tyra didn't deny that he was cute. Nate was well-built, and he had a masculine yet friendly face. His smile was spectacular. And he was clearly intelligent, and funny in the way she liked – sardonic. She could admit all that. What she couldn't believe was that he wasn't really an asshole, if only because most of the guys she'd been attracted to were assholes. Landry had been a notable exception – and it was a damn shame she couldn't ever manage to really love that boy, or at least not at the right time, or at least not for long. They'd become friends again, though, which was good, because she treasured his friendship. She got the sense Landry had been phasing it out the past six months, though. He was getting ready to pop the question to his girlfriend, and Tyra figured the girl probably didn't like the whole friendship with the ex-love-of-his-life thing.

Nate went over to the desk in the sitting room and pulled out his laptop. He was typing and then on his cell phone spewing numbers and then typing again, while Tyra sat up against the headboard and leafed through a magazine, until - speak of the devil - Landry called, and then she chatted with him for a bit. Apparently her conversation disturbed the investment genius's precious client-consultant dialogue, because at one point Nate walked past her bed and out into the hallway with the phone to his ear. When he came back, he looked ticked off.

"Sorry," she said drolly, her cell phone now deposited on the nightstand and the magazine back in her hands. "Didn't mean to make it hard for you to do business."

"It wasn't business," he said. "That one was my girlfriend. And we're officially over."

"Uh-huh. Sure." She'd overheard some of his side of the conversation before he'd gone outside. It had sounded like business to her. He'd said, _I just want you to make part of the investment _and _you can't keep spreading yourself thin_ and _if you're not willing to put all your eggs in one basket, I can't be expected to work with you anymore_. Then again, maybe that _was_ his way of breaking up with his girlfriend.

"Still think I'm trying to get in your pants?" Nate asked. "What if you're not as irresistible as you think you are?" He set his cell phone on the night stand, went and got an iPad out of his laptop case – Tyra guessed his iPhone and his laptop weren't enough - turned down the covers, and slid into bed. He turned the light on next to him.

"I don't think I'm irresistible," she said. She'd just had enough experience to know when a guy wanted to go to bed with her.

"Besides," he said, clicking on the screen of his iPad, "I don't come on to girls with boyfriends."

"What?"

"That was your boyfriend on the phone, right?"

"No, that was Landry."

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Who by definition can't be a boyfriend?"

"Landry's a nice guy and we used to date once," she said, "but we're just friends now."

She could hear the sounds of crunching coming from his iPad. From what little she could see, he was playing some kind of game that involved cartoonish, cannibalistic plants. "What was wrong with Landry that you broke up with him?" Nate asked. "He wasn't a football player? He hung out with the other geeks in the business club?"

"Actually, he _was_ a football player. And he was _also_ in the Honor Society _and_ the math club. I don't even know if we had a business club."

"And he makes you laugh. So, what wasn't good enough about him?"

Good question. "We just didn't work out. I don't know why. We just didn't."

"Well there had to be a reason," he said. "Not good-looking enough for you?"

"Are you suggesting I'm shallow?"

"If the shoe fits." Nate was clicking away on that damn game, not looking at her, but the right side of his mouth was curving into a smile, like he thought he'd hit a bull's-eye.

"No," she insisted. "It wasn't that."

Tyra was glad when her cell phone rang so she didn't have to justify herself any further. It was Mrs. Taylor calling to wish her good luck on her interviews. They chatted for a few minutes. "Thanks, Mrs. T.," she said before she hung up.

"Who's Mrs. T?" Nate asked, continuing to play his game.

"Your dad's wife."

"Mrs. Taylor? She was really kind to me the couple of times I was over at the house. Surprising, given the circumstances. Charming woman."

"It's still strange to think that Coach Taylor cheated on her," Tyra said. Julie hadn't told her that, directly, but she'd put the timeline together. "I'm not an idiot. I know how men are. But I used to spend time at their house. They seem so in love with each other. It actually surprises me."

"He _is_ in love with his wife. Every time we meet, he mentions her about 67 times." The game went _Crunch. Crunch. Pew_. "You know, seventy percent of all married men have cheated on their wives at some point during their marriage. Seventy percent."

Tyra turned to him slowly. "Where did you get that statistic? Out of the vault in your ass where you store all of your important numbers?"

"I did a lot of research. I was a little shocked when my mom told me she'd cheated with a married man. It just wasn't like her. It kind of shook up my worldview. But 70% of marriages don't end in divorce, so…some survive adultery. And I think in the case of the Taylors, your Mrs. T. kind of had her part to play too."

"Is that what Coach Taylor told you?"

"He didn't tell me anything. But I don't think Coach Taylor was a bad guy then, and he certainly isn't now."

"It's just kind of disappointing," Tyra said, shrugging. "You've got to understand - the Taylors were like the model couple in Dillon. Everyone was a little bit jealous of what they had. It's just…if _he_ could do that? If _they_ could go through that? Who's safe, really? What relationship has a chance, really?"

"Well, that's just the point, isn't it?" Nate sat up now and faced her. "They made it. They made it, and they fixed it. They _did_ it. They pulled through, and whatever they've got now is a lot better than whatever they had in the beginning of their marriage. Which means all those screwed up marriages out there might just stand a chance. And instead of standing around looking at the Taylors and saying - well, aren't they just lucky! -maybe all those other couples in Dillon should have been saying – hey, if we work at it- if we just work at it as hard as they do – maybe we can have a good marriage too."

This was a little heavier a conversation than she'd meant to have, and Tyra was starting to like Nate a little more than she wanted to. So she grabbed some clothes and went to the bathroom.


	12. Chapter 12

**2.5**

When Tami Taylor returned to the bedroom, her husband was sitting back against the headboard and reading. A few minutes ago, they'd been cuddling after sex, and Eric had been pretty clearly gearing up to go for two when Tami had suddenly remembered she'd forgotten to wish Tyra luck on her interviews. So she'd thrown on her clothes and gone to make the call. After talking to Tyra, she'd realized there was still a little wine left in the bottle they'd split that evening, so she'd had to finish that - of course.

Tami now slid in next to him and picked up her own book.

"How's Tyra?" he asked, in a tone that said, _At least I didn't spring for a hotel and champagne this time, but come on!_

"Like you care."

"I care about _all_ your important projects, babe."

She smiled. "Well, I think she's aiming a little high with these positions. They're expecting someone with years on, not someone just out of college. I hope she's not too disappointed."

"Well I certainly don't know anyone else who aims high."

"I started in small towns, Eric. I had two years of experience before Julie was born, and three in Dillon." She opened her book. "And you know it was still a shock when they offered me this dean job. To both of us."

"Not to me. I know and appreciate how brilliant and accomplished you are." He turned to her, stuck his fingertip slowly in his mouth, licked it, and then used it to turn his page.

She burst out laughing. "You _really_ want a second round, don't you? Oh, hon, sorry, but I think I just want to read for a while and then go to sleep."

"A'ight. Your loss."

She opened her book and found her place, but she didn't start reading. Instead, she said, "It sounded like there was a _guy_ in Tyra's hotel room. I heard someone say something in the background."

Eric tucked the dust jacket into his book to hold his place. "You say that like it surprises you. Wouldn't it surprise you more if there _wasn't_ a guy in her hotel room?"

"Eric! I told you. She's been focusing on finding a career. She's seemed really dedicated to that, to not letting boys distract her. I hope she hasn't gone back on her resolve."

"Tami, not that I'm a great champion of Tyra, but…I think a woman can manage to juggle both career development and a man."

"You only think that because I make it look so easy, sugar."

**/FNL/**

A clean and showered Tyra exited the bathroom in sweats and a college T-shirt. The shirt was very tight across her chest. Nate glanced at her when she came back to her bed, blinked as if momentarily stunned, and then looked quickly away.

"You going to sleep?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said. "Interview's early."

"Will it bother you if I leave on my light to read?"

"No, I don't mind." Under the covers, she turned her back to him.

He turned off the light anyway. For a long time her mind raced. Finally, she rolled over. His back was to her now, but she could see the white glow of the iPad on the ceiling. "What are you reading?" she asked. "Financial news?"

"_The Onion_."

Was he being sarcastic? "Seriously?"

He rolled over and turned the screen toward her to confirm his claim. Damn he was good-looking. And she hadn't had sex in a long time. She hadn't missed it too much, but that was only because she avoided _thinking_ about it too much. She had been concentrating on achieving her academic goals, but it was harder not to think about sex when you were lying in bed a few feet away from a cutely disheveled, nicely built, witty smart-ass of a guy who was also lying in a bed facing you.

Tyra wondered what his muscles looked like under that t-shirt. She wondered what his lips would feel like on her skin. She wondered if he talked at all during sex. She wondered if he was the kind of guy who just took what he wanted, or if he always made sure the girl got hers first.

**/FNL /**

"Seriously, what makes you think they like each other?" Julie asked. She was lying on her stomach and looking at Matt, who was rolled onto his side.

"The way they were going at it during dinner. It was non-stop."

"Yeah, that kind of arguing usually means people _don't_ like each other."

Matt laughed and shook his head. "Julie, did you really never get your pigtails pulled on the playground?"

"Okay, I get your point, but they're not kids. And _I_ never had pigtails." She laughed. "But I used to do up my hair with five different colored clips in second grade." Matt smiled and stroked her hair. "I thought I was cool until my Dad gave me his _look_ and just shook his head. And then my mom had one of her _private words_ with him and he came back and told me I looked beautiful and that I was a very creative hair stylist."

Matt smiled. "You know…though…your dad was actually being the better parent than your mom. He shouldn't have caved to her. You can't just let your kids go to school and humiliate themselves like that. They don't know any better."

Julie mocked gasped. "I wasn't humiliating myself! I _was_ beautiful." She laughed. "Okay, I stopped wearing them when the other kids made fun of me. But a girl should at least be able to rely on the support of her dad." She poked Matt in the shoulder. "So keep that in mind when we have our four girls."

"Two," Matt said. "We agreed on _two_ kids. And they'll probably be boys. Saracens have boys."

**/ FNL /**

"If you're not going to sleep," Nate asked, "You want to watch TV?"

Tyra agreed. He put away his iPad, turned on the TV, and began flipping channels.

"Did you really just break up with your girlfriend?" she asked.

"No. I staged the break up in hopes of making it easier to get laid by you. I'm a cheater _and_ a liar." He turned from the TV. "May I ask - why do you assume I'm jerk?"

"I don't."

"Yeah," he said, no longer good-humored but clearly frustrated, "you do."

"I don't. I just…I've had bad luck with guys most of my life."

"Maybe if you didn't dump the ones who treat you the best, you wouldn't."

"What?"

"Landry? Let me guess. He was golden to you. But you like bad boys."

She bit down on her lip and shook her head. "You don't know me at all."

"Sorry," he muttered. "I've been there. In Landry's place. See, the girl I just broke up with…she prefers a man who will treat her like crap. It's more exciting that way."

Tyra's brow furrowed. She wasn't like that, was she? "You think I'm shallow," she said.

"I don't know you. You intrigue me though, I've got to admit."

"Really? Why's that?"

"Probably because you're intriguing," he said. "Guarded though. Very guarded."

"Well, I don't typically bare my soul to guys I met four hours ago."

He muted the TV. "I get the idea you don't typically bare your soul to anyone."

"Do _you_?"

He scratched his ear. It was a cute ear. She wondered what that earlobe would feel like between her teeth.

"I guess it depends how you define soul," he said. "And how you define bare."

_Bare._ Why did that word have to hit her now? God but it had been a long time since she'd been naked and in bed with a man. Months. Her commitment to abstinence was never meant to be permanent. She was done with finals and with college. She wasn't likely to see Nate again, so he wouldn't be a distraction to her career pursuits. "Do you want to fuck?" she asked. "I want to. Let's fuck."

A surprised burst of breath escaped his mouth. A smile. A nervous, excited laugh. "Is that a genuine offer?"

"It's been a while for me. I'm horny as hell, and you're here, and, as you know, I'm shallow, so…"

"Wow," he said with a broad smile. "I didn't really see this coming."

"You want to do it in your bed or mine?"

"I think I'll respectfully decline." He tossed the remote onto her bed, just beside her.

She blinked. "What?"

"Is this a first for you?" he asked. "Getting turned down?" He winked. "I _do_ like being a girl's first." He eased down under the covers. "Good night, Tyra. Sleep tight. Don't let the bed bugs bite."

He rolled his back to her and left her sitting propped against the head board, her mouth dropped open.


End file.
